A Time of Crime
by thecrazystorywriter14
Summary: For a police officer, Nick Wilde never imagines a difficult life. But being a police officer creates tension in his own life, endangering himself, his family, and his friends. Disease creates a long-lasting debt on his lifestyle. He becomes a hero and a significant person saves him from near-death. T for recurrent medical information and situations (excluding sexual references).
1. The Gang

A Time of Crime

By: CrazyWriter (thecrazystorywriter14)

 **Chapter 1: The Gang**

The streets of the busy anthropomorphic city of Zootopia fills with mammals of several types: large and small, skinny, and overweight. Some feature tails longer than their own legs, others possess tails barely visible from five feet away, and the remaining own no tails at all. Fur colors range from orange, brown, red, white, black, or some fur with a mix of the colors. Just as variable as the fur colors, the mammals' clothing varies: some wearing tuxedos to a formal dinner, and others wearing mixes of informal clothing.

The stench of emission stains the air, blending with the other familiar scent of fast food fries and motor oil. The sun provides the all-too-familiar feeling of warmth, combined with the mammal-made heaters, emulating the sun's action. The sound of incessant chatter, the honking of horns, and babies' crying fills the air.

Two mammals face each other – one is a male canine with copper fur; the other is a female, gray-furred, long-eared, leporine mammal. Both the former and the latter mammals wear blue law enforcement uniforms. The only difference of the two is that the former mammal wears a black tie, which he had fastened to his crisp collar. His pants hang loosely over his legs. Unlike the fox, the rabbit sports a black vest, strapped to her chest. Her entire suit stretches skin tight over her fur.

"You're so _lazy_ ," the female rabbit shouts, clenching her paws into fists. She anxiously holds her thin arms to her sides and fiddles with her fingers. "I hope you remember that we're on the job, right? You're delaying both of us from our duties."

The male canine holds up his finger, eyes on his mobile device. As if a weight is hanging from his forehead, his head remains downward to face the screen. "Wait. I gotta finish this level of Zandy Crush," he says, looking up for a moment, but quickly returns to his former state.

"Nick," the rabbit protests, her eyes widening. "You've got some time later during break to do this. Right now, I need another pair of eyes for patrol."

"Well, how bout you go try and find some?"

Judy, the rabbit officer, rolls her eyes at her partner and turns around by using the ball of her foot to spin one-hundred and eighty degrees, her back to her friend. "Not my fault if you get in trouble," she says over her shoulder.

Nick scoffs and returns to his game, unaware of the mammal across the street – a sheep, dressed in a blue police uniform.

This sheep, previously spying on the fox and bunny, ducks behind a nearby mailbox and heaves a heavy, exhausted sigh. "Why am I wearing this?" he says, pulling off his mask to reveal a gray, perspiring wolf. "It's hotter than the sun's surface in there," he complains, waving his paw at his snout. After a few moments, he pulls out his communicator. "This is Officer Wolfard, undercover. We've got a problem," Wolfard puts his snout into the mask and inhales deeply, coughing ferociously. "If Bogo wanted this before, he won't now," he says, coughing, looking at his communicator, and speaking into it again. "Chief, I repeat: 'we have a problem.' "

"What, Wolfard? I'm in a hurry," the gruff voice of the chief of police of the Zootopia Police Department, Chief Bogo, replies. After a moment with no response, Bogo continues, "Wolfard, get back on the line. I don't have time for nonsense."

"Sorry, sir," Wolfard replies, blinking a couple of times, still attempting to comprehend the odor of his undercover mask. "I saw a commotion between two of our officers across the street," he cranes his neck to attempt to get a better view. "Well, at least I think they are."

"What do you mean, 'at least I think they are?' Are you struggling to perceive if these so-called 'officers' are having a commotion, or if they are our officers?"

"O-Oh, yes, sir. I was struggling to know who they are."

There is a slight pause, and Chief Bogo continues. "I was telling the community board, we needed to restrict hiring officers on the margin of grammar..."

After a moment without any further reply, Bogo heaves a large sigh. "Can you see which officers they are?" he replies while Wolfard does his best to portray a sheep. Occasionally, Wolfard glances toward the two officers, while simultaneously trying not to raise suspicion.

"Can't exactly get a clear view yet. However, I can get what they look like," Wolfard affirms, squinting. "Is that enough?"

Another moment of silence. Bogo takes in another stressful sigh. "I would assume an association with my own officers would promote my ability to recognize them. Now hurry up or I may have to demote you."

"Yes, sir. One of the officers is male - if only our male officers wear ties - and has copper fur, a long orange tail -"

"Okay, that's enough. The other?"

"Grey fur, long ea-"

"Okay, Wolfard. Got it. Send them both in," Bogo grumbles, slamming the button with his giant thumb to halt the communication. "Why, why, why?" he complains to himself. Still in his office, he glances up at Clawhauser, who Bogo had been oblivious to.

"Sir?"

"Clawhauser! What are you doing here?" Bogo's eyes widen, and he presses his lips together. His face falls to his normal stern mood.

"Who are you talking to?"

Again, Bogo's eyes widen and he bites his tongue. His "You know what, Clawhauser? Get me some coffee. That's what I need right now. Now go. SHOO!" he screams, waving the chubby attendant out of the office.

Twenty minutes later, the large chief, casting a large shadow on the floor, takes a large sip of his coffee and remains for a moment in silence. Two troublesome mammals, called in by Wolfard, sit adjacent to one another, exchanging glances occasionally. Finally, the huge figure begins, eyes cast on the fox. "Negligence of police duties, failure to follow police protocol, and reckless endangerment," he slams his fist on the desk. "A duty of a police officer is to protect life and property, not to play games on a phone, Wilde," he says, giving Nick a menacing stare.

Chief Bogo turns his head to the female law enforcement officer. "Frivolous troublemaking," Bogo stares her down. He then interchanges his glances to Officer Wilde, then to his partner. "I don't want you both prancing around like little six-year-olds, trying to show the world how _not_ to act professional! It simply gives a bad example to those who are near you," he says, pausing for a moment, taking in a few deep breaths.

"So, let me get this straight," Nick says, holding both paws out in front of himself. "Is the entire purpose of us coming to this meeting today for you to scold us about-"

"Shut your mouth, Wilde," Bogo snaps. "You don't want my patience tried any more than it is right now," he says, slamming his fist on the desk. He takes two of his fingers, consistently and slowly interchanging the 'I've got my eyes on you' gesture at both. "Now, I don't want another fight, additional backbiting, or childish horseplay to be reported regarding either or both of you again, or I will _definitely_ consider having you start packing. All right?"

Nick sighs and nods. "Sure."

Bogo looks at Judy. "You with Wilde?"

"Yes," she replies, smirking.

"Good," he opens a folder before him and entirely reverts the subject. "Wilde, Hopps. We've got a serious matter on our hands and we need you both, being _on your best behavior_ , to properly solve it. Clawhauser will give you the complete case file. You mess up on this one, and I won't be the one letting you go - and not just of your jobs, your lives are at stake," he stands from his chair, using his wrists as support, and walks to the door. "And this time, try _not_ to mess up," Bogo tries to grin as he gestures his paw out the door.

"So, we've got a case for you both, as Chief already told you," Clawhauser states happily, surveying the main lobby of the police station, placing his chubby paw on the granite countertop, simultaneously taking a bite out of his donut and ingurgitating his soda, disregarding the disrespect to his fellow partners and his inability to be comprehended while his mouth full of food. "Now I wanth yotuhs toth–"

"Slow down," Nick interrupts, firmly holding his paw out in front of him. "We got time. Swallow, then talk."

Following his instruction, Clawhauser can speak with comprehensive ability. "Sorry about that. Go ahead and open the folder. If you have any questions, I'm over here, y'know, stuffing my face."

Snickering lightly, Nick firmly flicks the file open and reads the small paragraph of information placed upon the paper. "Multiple reports of assault have been filed because of a small gang of rhinos patrolling the dark alleyways of Tundratown. Your mission is to properly arrest, compromise, and rid these rhinos from the streets," he looks at Judy with a blank glance. "Sounds kinda life-threatening, doesn't it?"

"You want to continue, or you want me to start off from where you were?" Judy asks, her arms crossed across her chest and her foot rapidly tapping on the linoleum floor.

Smirking, Nick reads aloud the entirety of the page. After he concludes, he shuts the file and plants his back to the counter. "At least with this report, we actually _have_ evidence. Plus, glass half-full, I'm not involved in the case."

"Well, don't get your hopes up. I wouldn't be surprised if I found a description of you in the assault report," Judy smirks, offering a look as if to say, 'try to find a comeback to that.'

"Now, miss smart aleck," Nick pauses to mentally rehearse the entirety of the make-believe conversation in his head. "Would my description be included as the person who was _assaulted_ or the _assaulter_?"

"Why don't you answer that yourself?" Judy pauses for a moment to allow the comeback to seep in. "Howbout you, your smart mouth, and I get going? At this rate, a snail officer could've compromised those rhinos in no time."

After a short, frivolous argument and a traffic-filled drive, the two officers arrive in the snowy Tundratown, each wearing a blue winter coat. Judy agrees to follow Nick's lead as the two officers scavenge the area. Nick runs his foot through the snow already gathering around, bends down, and runs his paws through the slush gathering in the gutter. Grimacing, he shakes the mush from his now wet paw and rubs his paw on the front of his coat.

He looks up from where he stands, in the middle of the dark road, and looks ahead to the trio of rhinos conversing unintelligently. There they are," Judy whispers, turning to her partner. "We can compromise them with the elephant tranquilizers. You have them, right?"

His eyes widen as he slaps his hand to his face. "Dang it," he yells, quietly contemplating his reluctance to bringing the weapons. "I forgot them. Let's go back."

Judy puts her finger to her lips, eyebrows curved in anger at her friend's loudness. "Be quiet! We don't want them to–"

"You don't want us to what?" The voice is menacing. The two officers hadn't noticed that the rhinos had quickly strolled over to them. The first rhino positions himself directly behind Nick, who whips around to find the massive figure looming over him. Glancing up at the figure, Nick's body feels as stone, and an icy feeling travels down his spine. Two other rhinos stroll over to the two officers. Nick waves Judy away, who attempts to snatch her partner's wrist, but he deliberately dodges it from her to avoid any further harm. This time, with more force, Nick uses all his energy in his shoulders to propel Judy underneath the nearby rhino's legs. Nick disappears from her view by the three gangsters, and she carefully looms in the shadows to avoid their detection.

The terrified screams of her friend penetrate the air. Relief floods her body, but simultaneously, an unwanted sense of sorrow bubbles in her senses. She finds herself wishing to be the victim, and have him carefully hiding in the shadows. Carefully analyzing her current state of endangerment, Judy ducks behind a building while the three rhinos search for her.

"Where is that rabbit?"

"I don't know, sir. What should I do with the body?"

"Leave 'em. I'm sure he's dead already."

Nick awakes in a bed and knows something is different. Glancing down at his chest, he notices that someone had replaced his uniform with a large green gown. A series of machines monitor him. His eyes dart around the room, attempting to figure out where he is. It is a clean room, white in color, and features a window, shades open, allowing the sun to illuminate the room brighter than the sun shining on snow on that frigid winter morning. Judy is on his left, in a chair, asleep from a day of staying by his side.

Being awake now, and sitting in his bed, a startling sense of peace encompasses him. He remains still and takes a deep breath of consciousness. Halfway through this relaxing inhalation, pain seizes all feeling of his upper body. With tears developing in his eyes, he reaches his paws and gently hovers over the appendage suffering from the most intense, acute pain, his head.

Chills seize his muscles as he slowly lowers his arm to the side of his body, resting it flat on the covers. _Did I break my skull?_ The thought penetrates his thought processing and lingers. He assures himself that the doctor would confirm that, and he takes a deep breath, feeling the same burst of pain.

The doctor walks in, then noticing Judy's slumber, walks quietly, and approaches his patient's bed.

"Well, guess who's awake," the doctor says to him, flipping through the medical history on his clipboard. Completely oblivious to his abnormally loud tone, Judy wakes instantly. "According to this form here, you only suffered a minor skull fracture, which we have already fixed through surgery," the doctor says. Nick rubs his head and discovers a large, white bandage wrapped from the top of his eyes to the base of his ears. Tired, he hesitates to speak. The doctor walks up to the machines and begins fiddling with them, scribbling down a few iotas of information displayed on the monitors. Looking up at his patient, he says, "Mr. Wilde, do you remember how you got hurt?"

Nick nods. "I think it was a group of rhinos, right?" he says, looking at Judy for confirmation. He yawns and stretches his arms above his head.

Judy smiles. "Yes, that's right."

The doctor smiles, still looking at the machines. "Do you remember where you live?"

"One-three–" Nick begins. Intense pain overtakes his chest, and at once unconsciousness overtakes him. and his pupils dilate, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. Waiting for an answer, the doctor leans over the arrested patient. Holding up a communicator, he speaks into it. "We've got a code blue."

Seconds later, a startling beep emits from the nearby loudspeaker, momentarily after the doctor begins chest compressions. "Code blue, rehabilitation. Code blue, rehabilitation."

Judy glances at her friend, once awake, and now unconscious in a matter of seconds. Fear crowds out all emotion in her brain, and all that she feels is fear and anxiety. Subconsciously, she rises from her chair and leans over her friend.

A few nurses from a nearby patient's room rush to the now unconscious Nick, and the doctor continues chest compressions, frantically yelling orders to the nearby nurses. Judy dashes around, tears pouring from her eyes, bumping into a few hectic nurses before collapsing in a chair at the side of the room. An idle nurse kindly leads Judy from the room, shutting the door behind her. "We have a policy where we want to avoid frantic visitors in the case of a code blue, okay? It's not that any of you are annoying, it's just – we need room to work, and if you want your friend rejuvenated, we need more space for doctors and nurses in that room."

Shortly after the nurse speaks with Judy, another nurse rushes in with a defibrillator, handing it to the doctor, who turns it on. "Start on 200," he says, placing the two pads on Nick's bare chest. "Clear," he instructs to the mammals surrounding the unconscious patient, sending a jolt of electricity through him. The doctor places his two fingers on his patient's neck. "No pulse," he mutters, again reaching for the defibrillator. "300," his eyes dart around the bed. "Clear," another jolt, then the doctor hopefully places his fingers on his unconscious patient's neck once more. "We've got a weak pulse! Get him to recovery, and put him on metoprolol tartrate, 5mg rapid for two minutes, and after, do 1mg/5min for an hour."

An unknown amount of time later, Nick wakes, nobody to welcome or accompany him. He lay still for a moment, thinking. Wondering why he had joined the police force. He ponders on how he is going to pay for all of this. At that moment, Judy walks in with a frown and lit up at the sight of the now conscious Nick. She runs up to him and considers his eyes. "I thought I lost you," she says through tears. Her paws gently wrap around his neck, and she weeps into him. After a moment, she releases and once again considers him.

Nick grins. "I'm fine. How long was I out?"

"Not long. Probably 20 minutes. You had a heart attack. They took some tests."

Nick's eyes widen. "I'm perfectly healthy," he says as the doctor walks in.

The doctor smiles and silently rehearses the diagnosis. "Well, we found the cause of your heart attack through the tests we took. We ruled it as coronary artery disease."

Nick's jaw drops, eyes short of popping out of his skull. "But I'm healthy! How is that possible?"

The doctor frowns, grinding his teeth. "Through the tests we took, you're not. You had an abnormally high blood pressure, and elevated levels of cholesterol and sugar in your blood."

Nick frowns. "Is there a cure for it?"

The doctor holds up a syringe. "Yes, there is. But this drug was expensive. The name is still not available to the public."

His eyes widen. "How much is it?"

"This one dosage alone costs around $500. Do you approve for paying that?"

Nick nods. "Insurance should cover it, so go ahead," he says as the doctor sticks him with the needle.

After a couple of hours, the doctor found an increase in Nick's health, so he signs the release form and delivers it to his patient. "First, fill out this form, and after, call me with this red button," he says, motioning to the small device by Nick's side. "Call me whenever you need me or one of my nurses. We'll be happy to help."

After Nick fills out the form, he taps on the red button and the doctor walks in. "You finished with the form?"

He nods, handing the form out to the doctor, who takes it. He points to the door. "Your uniform is in there, so get changed and one of my nurses will lead you out."

Nick changes and walks out, straightening his tie. A nurse places her hand on Nick's back, leading him out with Judy by his side. They walk out to Judy's awaiting police car, and they both jump in. Nick waves to the kind nurse as they pull out of the hospital.

Later, on the road, Nick's communicator blares, and he picks it up. "Officer Wilde, this is Bogo, over. You prepared for another mission?" Bogo says.

"Sure, why not?"

"Well," Bogo sighs. "I need you both to go back to Tundratown and take down that group of rhinos."

"No way," Nick says, shaking his head. "I'm not going through that again. Besides, another hit to my skull and I'm dead. So is my wallet."

Bogo sighs. "It was my fault you got hurt. We didn't have any tranquilizers at the time, so I put myself responsible," he pauses. "Did you notice that you didn't get a medical bill?"

Nick taps his head. "Yeah?"

"It wasn't because they messed up, or they had a delay. I paid it, Wilde."

"Why?"

"I already said it, Wilde. I put myself responsible for your injuries, so I paid the $17,371 that they billed you."

"Fine. We'll go back to Tundratown. As long as you have those tranquilizers."

"We do, Wilde. So, get to it, and take them down, no matter what it takes."

Within minutes, the two partners sit in their police cruiser, waiting to approach the alleyway in Tundratown. Judy halts the vehicle just before the alleyway, and they get out, tranquilizers in paw. Nick looks at the group of rhinos standing casually in the middle of the alleyway. Nick points them out silently, and Judy nods as she starts to approach them. Nick smirks and checks the dart in his gun, then aims it forward and shoots perfectly into one of the rhino's arms. Seconds pass before the massive figure lies unconscious on the concrete sidewalk.

The remaining duo look across the street, flabbergasted. Gaining slight confidence, one follows the other across the street. Looking into the snow, the rhino follows the tiny tracks until they end abruptly in the middle of the sidewalk.

He looks up, and before he can respond, a tiny figure swings from up above and kicks him straight in the face. Off-center, the rhino crashes to the ground in a heap. He groans as he rises from the ground, and within seconds he crashes to the ground again, unable to move. Judy stands behind the rhino, holding the tranquilizer gun. Nick holds a rope, hanging from a pipe, in his left paw and looks at the unconscious felon.

The remaining rhino of the trio charges up the sidewalk, snatching Nick from the sidewalk by the back of his shirt, tearing a sizable hole into it. Nick, looking at the rhino, consults him angrily. "Excuse me?"

The rhino stops moving his other paw to the fox. "What do you want?"

"Oh, sorry to disturb you, but you just put a hole through a very expensive uniform. You don't want to know how much that will cost you. By the way, have you heard my phrase before?"

"That's nonsense, fox. Besides, you won't live to say that phrase," he resumes moving his paw toward the fox.

"Wait," Nick says, halting the rhino. "What if I told you I could give you something if you didn't hurt me?"

"What is that, fox?"

Before the rhino can even begin wondering Nick's mysterious offer of a gift, an extreme force conquers the rhino's balance. Within seconds he lies on the floor. Nick holds up his tranquilizer dart, shooting the rhino in the arm. His body goes limp and his eyes remain open.

Within minutes, a large police van pulls up, and three officers shove the three gangsters into the van.

One officer that arrested the unconscious rhinos turns to Nick and Judy. "The chief said you're both excused," she mutters, stepping into the nearby police van.

Nick calls a taxi and orders the driver to take him to his place of stay, previously confirming that Judy had obtained a ride to travel to her lone apartment. The ride is pleasant and calm, the driver ends up being kind and compassionate - unlike many of the other taxicab drivers. During the ride, Nick glances outside his window to the sunset, beautiful and illuminating.

At his destination, Nick walks through the old grey door to the ghetto kitchen, where his grandma sits at the table, reading. She is a graying, four-foot-tall fox wearing a black 'don't mess with me' shirt and a pair of grey sweat shorts, a pair of glasses on her snout. "Why, it's my Nicky. How was your day today?"

Trying to avoid the question, Nick attempts to sneak past her, but the hairy eyeball she offers him stops him in his tracks. "Alright, I see, playing hard to get," she says after donning her additional pair of glasses. She cracks her knuckles and smiles amusedly. "But, Nicky, I'm still waitin' for an answer to my question. In case you forgot, it was 'how was your day today?'" After a moment of silence, she sighs. "I'm still waitin', Nicky. I can do this all day."

The question "how was your day" is common in his family, and plenty of the members accepted an 'it was good' or 'it was okay', excepting her. She wants and had always wanted _detail._ Nick fiddles with his tie. "Well, I had to take down a group of rhinos in Tundratown today."

His grandma smiles cheerfully. "Oh, did you now. Get going with whatever you were gonna do. Dinner's in the fridge. I got enough for ya'," she says, returning to her book after donning her reading glasses again.

Nick sighs with relief and walks to the kitchen, where his brother, named Jack, is standing, looking at his phone. He is a 29-year-old fox who appears like Nick, except with a more uneven chin, darker fur, and eyes with a much more significant slant, and with shaggier eyebrows. "Hey, bro," he says, again gluing his eyes to his mobile device. "How was the day at the ol' police station?

"Y'know, same ol', same ol'," Nick replies sluggishly, pulling the door of the refrigerator open. He fiddles his paws in the internal storage of the large cooler. "What's for dinner?"

"Chicken noodle soup," his grandma yells - eliminating Jack a chance to answer - from the other room. She is old, but she can cook. And by cook, she can _cook._ Nick licks his lips, throwing the bowl of leftover soup into the microwave.

Nick takes the bowl out, walking up the stairs to his room. The furniture inside appears as it was nineteen years earlier, as if he was a teenager: garbage, candy wrappers, cups, and banana peels littering the floor. The wall is dark blue and beginning to fade. The single large window sitting in the back of the room remains dark and unilluminated from the lack of sun.

When the time was right, Nick occasionally sat upon the windowsill that very window to ponder his day. Subconsciously, he would gaze at the sunset or whatever celestial festivity the sky had to offer, be it fireworks or the like.

Back when he had just applied to the police force, his grandmother had bet him that if he successfully joined the police force, he would receive the room. If the police force rejected the application, then he would have to return to living under the old abandoned bridge as he did before.

He places himself upon the ragged bed sheets. Without taking the energy to doff any of his police clothing, he slowly consumes the food made by his grandmother. Shortly after returning his mobile device to its place on the bed, a sound emits from it, prompting the fox to immediately check his messages.

A single lone text message from Judy is, "Can I come to your place tomorrow?"


	2. The Visit

**Chapter 2: The Visit**

The entire contents of Nick's mouth splatter onto the fading blue wall. He stares at the text that he received from Judy, jaw hung open. He doesn't care about the disgusting mess he had made. He focuses more on the subject, his friend. _Why does she want to come over? Don't we have work tomorrow?_ These and other thoughts rage through his head, and he responds to the text with a simple, "why?"

Judy replies, "Because I want to come see you."

"We have work tomorrow, don't we?" he keys, mustering up the courage to hit the "send" button after a couple seconds.

"Tomorrow's Saturday," Judy replies.

He smiles and replies, "Ok. Come to 384 Jaen Street in Savannah Central. It's on a hill."

"Ok. Is 8:00 tomorrow morning okay?"

"Is 9:00 okay? I don't want to wake up too early on a Saturday." Nick keys up the question, retyping a few of the words before sending it off.

After conversing with a few additional messages, he places his phone on the table and takes the last bite of the soup, placing the bowl on the nightstand, and then sags onto his bed. He closes his eyes. Soon, he detects the very scent of the day so long ago.

The strong scent of coffee and donuts, and a very distinct odor of sweat. Anger seemed to blanket the room and tug at everyone's senses. Shadows leaned to the right, and the warmth of the sun sunk slowly into the skin of everyone attending. The cool atmosphere of the air conditioner penetrated and neutralized the sun's warmth through the window.

Her voice seemed so vivid; so lucid. The words flowing out of her mouth rolled off her tongue like water on leaves. "So, Nick, have you moved since I saw you at the bridge?"

His reply, unlike his usual responses, is chopped and shredded, like cheese through a rusty shredder. "Moved? Uh, yeah, that. Yeah, I moved to an apartment."

Leaving the stuffy room that day, he'd regretted lying to her. Apartments were and still are too expensive for his taste and his wallet.

Now, his mind lifts from the flashback. He opens his eyes, and in an instant, stares at the white ceiling. His peripheral vision detects the spat material still on the wall. The scent of his flashback now is anything but distinct.

"Tomorrow's gonna be great," the words flow slowly from his mouth, sarcastically. Reluctant to stand from the bed, he cranes his body toward the floor, searching for his night clothing. There, lying haphazardly on the wooden floor is a small pile of clothes. He stretches his arm as far as possible toward the clothes but stops when unexpected pain runs up his arm. He retreats, then slowly makes his way toward the clothes by way of walking.

Once reaching his clothes, he hesitates to celebrate, instead reluctantly dressing into his pajamas. He flops on the bed once again and ponders the day.

The frigidity of the hospital, and passing out on the bed. The ginormous gang member beating him, prompting the hospital visit. His thoughts dissipate as he closes his eyes, breathing deeply as his consciousness fades into sleep.

Time seems to shorten. Within minutes, it seems, he has a view of his planet. A spherical wonder, stuck in the middle of a black abyss. One side of the planet is bright, sky laced with clouds, entwined within one another to appear like cotton balls spread apart and connecting in an uncoordinated mass. The other side is dark, only illuminated by the cluster of illumination from hundreds of light sources. Some light is darker than others, as clouds on this section of his planet cover the various sections of the sky. Now, his view changes, twenty thousand feet above a large mass of land, separated into four sections. One section of the land strikes him the most, a mass of tall skyscrapers clustered at the thinnest portion of the city, and buildings lowering as the land widens.

His view changes once again: two thousand feet above the city. A distinct portion of the location he looks at appears peculiar. An equilateral piece of land, spread with stone pieces in uniform rows.

His view changes once again, fifty feet above a stone piece upon that site. One mammal stands alone. Having a green tropical shirt, a blue tie tucked into the collar. Tan straight pants hang from the mammal's waist.

Himself.

Abnormally still. The direction of his gaze – in the third person – is at the stone piece. A name carved into the stone piece stuns him.

June Wilde.

His grandmother.

Words remain on this stone piece: "I always loved this life. I always adored it. But when it ends, I want my children and grandchildren to know this: I love them with all my heart, no matter how angry I appear."

Staring at himself, he cannot comprehend it. He has no ability to speak. He, himself as a floating being ten feet from himself, has no ability to speak. No thoughts run through his mind.

Still, in this odd reality, he ponders himself again, and notices some odd changes in himself – lightened fur, graying in some parts. His stance is a lot less confident. He notices the third person version of himself glance slowly at another grave beside his grandma's. The grave, approximately five feet to the right of his grandmother's, has writing engraved in it. As for himself in the aerial view, he attempts to comprehend the writing engraved in the stone. Before any comprehension can overtake him, his aerial vision of himself standing in the gravesite disappears. His awareness snaps into a person. Heaviness overtakes his cranium, supported by the lightness of a pillow.

It takes a moment to realize that he had awakened.

A dream. His grandmother's death was a dream. And the existence of someone else's grave site. His grandfather? Who was it in the dream?

"Nick," his brother yells from the doorway of Nick's bedroom, frowning. He remains standing with a stiff, erect posture, impatiently waiting for his brother to arise from his bed.

"What?" Nick says, sitting up and stretching, shivering as the feeling of the cold, damp morning air touches his fur. The fur atop his head stands upward, the fur on the back of his head doing the same. His tail fur, shown as he uncovers himself from the bed, also has the ludicrous tendency to stand erect upon his tail.

"Someone's at the door for you," Jack replies simply.

"It's 9 already?" he says, rubbing his eyes, and standing. The red, furry canine shuffles downstairs and opens the front door, finding Judy standing, wearing a pink top and a blue skirt. The cool air from outside quickly rushes in, cooling the fur on his arms. It arouses good, pleasurable feeling to stand in the direction of the cool air, accepting the cool gust for a minute, the sun beating on his awoken shoulders, creating the perfect combination of warmth and cold. He remains standing there for a moment, his friend standing in the doorway, looking at him as if he is taking a shower outside in broad daylight in the middle of a carnival, of which Gazelle hosts.

"Hi, Nick," she says, a forced smile plastered on her face, attempting to disregard her friend's dorkiness, completely obvious as he stands in the doorway.

Nick looks at her, unaware of how idiotic he looks, as he shows her. "Hi," he mutters, yawning.

Nick's grandma walks up to Judy. "I'm Nick's grandma, but you can call me June. What's your name, hon?"

"Judy," she replies, shaking the old fox's hand. Her hand felt like Nick's - fluffy and comfortable - except the fur feels _older_.

June smiles. "Nick's told me all about you. Anyway, I made some waffles. Do you both want some?"

Nick's eyes widen. "Uh, maybe-" he says quickly, attempting to wave Judy off.

Just before he can finish his sentence, Judy cuts him off. "Seeing as I skipped breakfast for this, I'd be delighted! Thank you!"

"Delightful," June says with a cheery grin. "Y'both sit, and I'll serve you," she says, rushing off to the kitchen. Nick and Judy both walk to their seats and sit on them just as June returns two plates of steaming waffles, setting them in front of them. Each waffle looks as if she created each one individually, so perfect to savor every bite. "So," June says after returning with a plate of her own, "Are you both in a relationship?" she eyes Nick quickly, hoping for an acceptable answer, and quickly returns her eyes to her guest.

"If you mean a friendship," Judy says, "Then yes. If you're talking about the other type, then... no. But, how we both relate in the future is inevitable. For all I know, we could end up with thirteen pups and a million-dollar mansion."

Nick scoffs and smiles at her. "Doubt that's gonna happen, Carrots. I don't really think you understand the reality of that situation."

June manages a chuckle and looks at her grandson, amused. "C'mon, Nicky, my boy. You should at least give Judy her ability to daydream. I know you've done it."

His face warming, Nick covers his snout with his paw. "Grandma, I know that. And could you at please stop calling me Nicky?"

Both June and Judy ignoring Nick's obnoxious comment, Judy returns to the subject, June's eyes again cast on the rabbit. "Anyway, our relationship is inevitable, as I said – but we'll just have to see what happens," Nick eyes her again, and she returns to June's gaze with an uncomfortable feeling beginning to spark in the deepest pits of her abdomen.

June nods. "Yes, that would make sense," she pauses, pondering another question. She then looks back at Judy. "Where do you live, Judy?"

Nick looks at his grandma as if she asked if she could go to Judy's house and kill her. With nothing to say, his mind begins to wonder what is happening to his grandmother – _what is she thinking?_ he ponders, _is she okay? Did she take one too many of her crazy pills this morning?_

Judy takes a bite of the waffle and grins. It tastes fluffy and sweet, a texture of air, and as she swallows, the perfect aftertaste creeps up her throat. "I live in an apartment in downtown."

After three more half-hearted conversations, the two friends finish and head upstairs to Nick's room. As Nick pushes open the faded brown door, a waft of chocolate hits her nose. Candy wrappers, socks, and pizza boxes clutter the floor, and the smells emitting from them clutter the floor.

Judy skillfully strolls through the room, avoiding the garbage scattered all over, until she plops onto the bed. The mattress is like a solid block of compressed leftover pieces of hardwood from a builder's merchant stuffed inside a mattress cover and left outside for a week.

After recovering from her incredulousness from the state of her friend's room, she returns to the original intention she created as soon as she entered just a few minutes earlier. "Let me ask you one question," Judy says, her lips flat and eyes wide, raising her eyebrows. "Why would you lie to me? You told me you lived in an apartment!" she yells, pointing at the window.

Nick clenches his teeth, eyes darting around the room. "First of all, Carrots, I wasn't lying. I was simply _stretching the truth–" his voice begins to rise. "And why do you care that I live in an apartment or a house?" looming over Judy, his voice begins to express true anger. "I'm lucky to be living somewhere in the_ _first_ _place!_ "

Her ears tucked behind her head and her nose quickly shivering on the end of her snout, Judy's mouth begins to flatten, and she stares at him, holding back tears of resentment and sadness.

Avoiding causing any harm, Nick begins to walk out of the room, when Judy silently touches his arm. Stopping for a moment, he looks back with bloodshot eyes and exits the room.

After a moment, he returns with an identical gaze, except a small smile on his face. "Judy, I... I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?" she replies, her back turned to him. "It was my fault I asked the question. I should've known you would get mad."

Slowly stepping to her and finally reaching the bed, Nick places himself upon it and looks down at the floor. Looking back up to Judy, she now faces him, and he looks down again. Managing a smile, he tries to brighten the mood. "Hey, Judy, what do you call a diabetic bee?"

Snorting humorously, Judy looks up from between her legs to the fox and manages a grin. "What?"

To attempt to hold back his laughter, he bites his tongue. "Useless."

Grinning, she quickly reaches her paw up to his ear and slowly massages it. Thinking he will pull away, she massages him slowly. Surprisingly, he does not pull back, but instead leans forward and sits up straighter. She grins bigger, reaches under his arms, and paws his abdomen. He begins to chuckle rapidly, soon succumbing to her pawing and lays horizontally on the bed. "Stop... stop..." he starts to say between laughs and deep gulps of air, and soon he begins to say the same words more frequently. "Judy... stop! stop... stop..." and after the tenth time of saying "stop", she lets go and he takes a few deep breaths to satisfy his desire for air.

Now, Judy moves her hand over Nick's back. "I didn't know you were ticklish. And it the most obvious location, too."

Again, Nick does not pull away but moves his knees up to his chest. "How's my grandma? She's not too mean, is she?"

Judy shakes her head. "No, she's fine. In fact, I really admire her. She's an amazing cook, too."

He nods. "That's one of few positive traits she has. She can cook for a 95-year-old."

Judy gasps. "She's 95?" she quickly retreats from her excitement as Nick gives her the evil eye. "Sorry."

"You're fine. She can cook, and she's tough," he holds up his left three fingers, each representing every action she does. He touches each finger with his index finger from his right hand, counting each action. "Every day she wakes up at 6 o'clock sharp, works out for 1½ hours, and then eats a bowl of cracked wheat."

She smiles humorously. "That's pretty tough for a grandma," she pauses, trying to think of a question to ask him. "How long have you lived here, anyway?"

He smirks, rubbing his chin with his right index finger. "I've been waiting for you to ask that. When I started training in the police force, I asked my grandma if I could stay here."

Her eyes widen, interested in the story. "And what else?"

"And she bet I wouldn't make it into the police force, and if I made it, I would get to stay here," he says, pointing at the floor. "If not, I would have to live somewhere else."

Judy smiles. "And we both know what happened."

He laughs. "You should've seen the look on her face when I got here with my suitcase. She wondered what I was doing, and then I showed her the graduation certificate," he chuckles lightly, then pauses for a moment. "I had a weird dream last night."

"What?"

"I can't really explain it. It was so vivid. I saw the earth, and then Zootopia. Then, I saw a gravesite. Standing in front of a tombstone was me. And my grandma's name was on the tombstone."

"What?" she asks, incredulous. "You're telling me your grandma's going to die?"

"I didn't say that, Carrots," he tries to recollect the dream. "I couldn't feel anything when I saw myself staring at the tombstone. I looked so depressed. Like I couldn't do anything else but stare at that tombstone. Then I saw myself look at another tombstone, but I couldn't read it."

"Do you mean yourself in the dream or yourself looking at yourself?"

"If I could read it or not?"

"Yeah. That."

"I couldn't read it. Me as I looked at myself."

"Okay. Could you make anything out?" Judy asks.

"No. Nothing."

She shrugs. "I can't interpret it for you, but maybe it's supposed to mean something. Maybe it has a hidden meaning."

"I don't know, Carrots. But I'm afraid that might be a reality."

"Nick. I–"

Footsteps stop her amidst her sentence. Gentle, casual footsteps, but a firm build to them. Unrecognizable footsteps. Jack appears in the doorway, mouth flat. His eyes communicate danger.

He moves further into the doorway. A masked figure wearing a black mask, a black shirt, and black pants points a pistol at him.

Nick stands. "Don't point a gun at my brother," he yells. "Get on the ground, now," he demands, reaching for his own pistol.

The perpetrator places the barrel of the pistol against Jack's head. "I'll shoot unless you come with me," the perpetrator says, right index finger pointing at Nick as his left hand is holding the gun.

Nick exchanges glances with Judy for a moment as they both consider his choice. Nick nods at her, then at the perpetrator. "Judy. Stay here. I'll be back, I promise," he says, walking forward, and the perpetrator shoves Jack into the room. The perpetrator points the gun at Nick. "Downstairs, now," he yells, shoving Nick out into the hall.

Nick walks downstairs to the front door. The perpetrator motions out, still pointing the gun at Nick. "Get in my car and stay there," he mutters.

Nick begins to walk away but whips around at a blunt, painful sound. A sound of pain, suffering. There, his grandma stands, exhausted, next to a heap of perpetrator on the ground. The gun, now on the ground, fires.

The bullet races through the air, and in milliseconds, lodges into Nick's shoulder. He screams in pain and collapses. His grandma rushing to his aid.

Nick struggles to stand at the sound of a gun cocking. The pistol. The perpetrator now stands, conscious, with the pistol in his paw.

On the last resort to save his grandma, the desperate grandson releases his claws and attempts to slash the perpetrator in the throat, but misses and instead cuts through the perpetrator's cheek. The perpetrator yells in pain and clutches the laceration with his right hand, screaming out profanities to the young grandson. Yelling even worse profanity, he aims the gun at the grandmother.

The loud, enormous explosion of the gun echoes the air, causing both the perpetrator, very inexperienced with a gun, and Nick, with minimal exposure to a gunshot with unprotected ears, to both cover their ears for a moment, an ear-splitting ringing fills Nick's head. Running desperately over to his grandmother, Nick shoves the perpetrator away, whose head knocks heavily against the pavement, knocking him out cold.

His grandma, already fallen peacefully in the green grass of the beautiful backyard, is subconscious and has her paws covering a section of her chest. Nick rushes to her, tears running down his cheeks, screaming in agony over his incapacitated grandmother. She looks at her as her eyelids start to droop, and she manages a very weak smile. "Nick, my boy," she whispers, lifting one paw from the other, revealing a keychain with four keys hanging on it. "Here," she places them in Nick's right hand and wraps his fingers around them. "Have the house, and the car's yours. Don't call the ambulance ... Grandpa..." she says, eyes slowly closing. Nick shuts his eyes, clenching his fists, and laying his head on his comatose grandmother.

A feeling of metal, firmly placed at the posterior of his head, starts to fill his body as his skin receptors sense it. Knowing a feeling of a barrel, he does nothing to fight back. Nothing to defend himself. He simply folds his arms across his grandma's abdomen.

Not being a very spiritual person, Nick lets his muscles relax over his grandma's firm stomach. For the first time in his life, he speaks to someone. Maybe in his conscience, or maybe other. Someone Judy had mentioned vaguely at least two times during their friendship.

 _If there is anyone there, and I don't know if there is, but I need something to help me. Please help me. My grandma's dead, and I need help to get rid of the source. Please._

The wetness from his own tears soaks into his fur, and being almost oblivious to it, he steadies himself and prepares for his fate, his thoughts wandering back to his spiritual message.

 _I need something... grandma's dead ... I need help ... rid... the source..._

 _It's come true,_ his internal monologue states. _My grandma's dead. I can already imagine myself standing in front of the gravestone._

A feeling of peace encompasses him, and the first time in his life, he waits patiently to again meet his grandmother.


	3. Mom

**Chapter 3: Mom**

Waiting, he braces the impact of the bullet and the metal barrel smashing against his vulnerable cranium. After about ten seconds, a short, metallic sound comes from the back of his head. No explosion, just a click.

 _Am I dead?_ Nick questions himself. He takes a short breath and the cool air of that Saturday morning still penetrates his fur. _Nope._

 _Either,_ he rationalizes, _since I already ruled out death, someone's playing with me, or, the robber isn't bright enough to pack bullets in his gun._

Multiple of the identical clicks emerge from the gun, with less delay between each, and the same result occurs as the robber frantically finds a way to properly operate the firearm. Sure enough, the gun is empty. A metallic _clink_ fills the air as the robber slams his empty gun to the ground.

No bullets.

Footsteps begin to register in Nick's ears. Soft, furry footsteps. He glances up and finds the robber strolling from the location of his murder attempt. He now stands about ten feet from June's deceased body, and still, with tiny steps, inches away. The unidentified mammal remains still, standing for a moment, then falls to the soft grass, making a soft rustle as he touches the plants. A sharp, needle-like bullet with an empty cartridge protrudes from his thigh.

Nick hadn't done it - and the guy sure hadn't just dropped dead. _He's unconscious_ , Nick realizes, his head still low as he examines the victim, who still aspirates, identifiable by his chest slowly rising with each breath. Nick still lays on his deceased grandmother. _So, if he's unconscious, he didn't have any disease, or if I didn't do anything, then who did?_ he wonders. Glancing up from his grandmother, he finds a tranquilizer gun hovering in the air. Tracing backward, past the trigger, a grey, small hand grasps the handle of the visible gun. An arm of similar color connects to the hand and attaches to the shoulder of short, leporine mammal at a distal point.

Judy.

Smiling after seeing her friend laying over June, she figures no injuries until she inches towards the dead grandmother. "Nick! What happened?" she says, slowing her pace and inching toward her. Her eyes are closed and wrinkles are visible under them.

"I'm sorry, Judy," he says, cuddling his head onto his grandmother's still chest.

She looks Nick in the eyes, then down at the grandmother. "You said my first name. Something's up. And she's on the ground. Something's _really_ up."

"It's the sky, Carrots, if that's what you're wondering," he smiles slightly and cheers the mood slightly. "But, Carrots, she-" he nods slightly, tears flooding his eyes. "She didn't want to be taken to the hospital. The last thing she said was 'grandpa'."

The word _last_ chills her to the bone. She begins to shake her head, side to side, very subtly, and then, after a moment, progresses it into a violent head shaking, not progressing any further to end up snapping her neck. She stops and violently weeps into her hands. "You can't tell me she–"

"She's gone," he says, tears flowing down his cheeks.

As they approach his bedroom, the scent of his room again become detectable. Judy sits on his bed, next to him. Judy wipes his tears away with her finger. "It's my fault she's gone."

His jaw drops halfway open. "Your fault?" he lifts both eyebrows up, pivoting his head slightly to the right. "I'm the one who tried to protect her. You had nothing to do with this," he lifts both paws, palms up, in a comfortable position in front of himself.

She wipes her eyes with her arm. "No. I was the one who killed her. I interrupted that conference. I was the one who said that it wasn't fair that prey are treated unfairly."

He furrows his eyebrows. "And how is that connected to the violence?"

She wets her teeth with her tongue. "They're hunting me."

"Oh, Carrots," he palms his face and remains still for a moment. Slowly, he lifts his face from his palm and starts to smell the air purposely. "Um..."

"What are you doing?"

After a short delay, he says: "Smelling."

She rolls her eyes. "That's obvious. I _know_ you smell something, but _what_ do you smell?"

"One thing that you did not know-" he stops sniffing and manages a momentary grin. "Foxes have the ability to smell feelings."

"What? Smell feelings? What are you talking about?"

He continues to sniff the air and his eyes widen. "You don't need to go to the bathroom, do you?"

"What type of question is that?" she looks at him skeptically. "You're really giving me the creeps. Cut it out."

He continues to smell and stops once again. "Oops. That's not discomfort. That's guilt," he pauses, then continues. "Yeah. That's right," he ceases at his smelling frenzy. "You feel guilty."

Her eyes widen. "What? How did you know that?"

He rolls his eyes. "Geez, Carrots. I told you twice already. Foxes can smell feelings."

She shakes her head and stomps her foot on the ground. "I know that. But _how? How_ do you smell feelings?"

He grins. "Why didn't you ask? That's simple. We have such a keen sense of smell that we can smell the differences in sweat."

Judy can feel her face flush red beneath her fur. "Perspiration? You can smell my _sweat_?"

He nods. "Each type of emotion has a different smell," he points at her. "I was having trouble with guilt and discomfort because they both smell about the same."

She nods. "I get it now. So, when you were younger, your mom could tell your true feelings just by _smelling you_?"

Nick nods. "Yes," he pauses. "You know what else?" he smirks. "The only feeling we can't detect is boredom. It has no sweat smell, so it's impossible to detect it."

"Let's get back to where we were - I know I feel guilty. But what type of guilt do I have?"

"No need to smell for that," he looks at her. "You have survivor's guilt, Judy," he rubs her head. "It's normal for someone to have it when a someone else experiences something tragic."

"Thanks," Judy smiles at him for a minute, and her ear perks up. "Someone's here," she glances over to the sidewalk, where four figures - one ahead of the other three - walk up the pavement to June's body.

Nick is already walking out. "C'mon, Carrots. You're not the only one who can hear," he smiles and holds his hand up in the air. "Hey, it's Officer Fangmeyer," he grasps the tiger's paw and shakes it. "Nice to see you in a long time."

"Wilde," he chuckles a bit. "The last time I saw you was this morning. In the break room."

"That's right," he realizes he still grasps Fangmeyer's hand. "Oops," he releases his grip and stands to the side. "What are you guys here for?"

"We were on duty across the street and saw you guys over here. We were going to check to see what is with the unconscious person over there on the grass."

Judy frowns. "I almost forgot about him," she looks at the towering officer. "Nick's grandma-"

"Let me see," he interrupts, walking over to the grandmother. She still lay in the same position. Fangmeyer gasps lightly as he examines the wound underneath her still paws. "I'm terribly sorry, Wilde. You know, things do happen like this to a lot of people, especially of our own," he turns around and starts walking away. "I'll grab the mortuary gear from the car, and be sure the three buffoons stay where they are," he motions toward them, makes an unintelligible hand gesture, and continues his journey to the car.

"I just don't know why she had to go like this," he says, pausing. "When I came home those days, she'd say she'd die from natural causes at 110," he laughs, then closes his eyes and frowns. "But she barely made it under 95."

By this time Fangmeyer returns with the mortuary equipment and carefully transfers June's body to the stretcher with Nick's assistance. "Wilde," he says while he does this, "it's just a part of life. We see it all the time. And don't tell the boss–" he leans in closer to Nick as he finishes preparing the body. "–but I'm sure you'll see her again. She'll be watching you every day."

"Well, I hope," he manages a smile. "Well, thanks for the help. Take good care of ol' grandma. She's fragile."

"At first glance, it didn't appear so," he shrugs and looks toward the three officers, slowly sipping coffee. "Hey, won't one you idiots have sympathy on an old tiger and help me carry this poor grandma to the car?" In an instant, one of them quickly rushes over and snags the other end of the stretcher. After a moment, Fangmeyer stops abruptly and the other officer nearly falls over. "Oh, I forgot. When are you planning to hold the funeral services?"

Nick looks up from his daydream. "What? - oh, does tomorrow sound okay?"

Fangmeyer looks back at the two officers in the corner and the other with his paws holding the stretcher. "Do we have time to honor Officer Wilde's grandma, boys?"

The three officers, all drinking coffee, quickly look at Fangmeyer. "Yes, Officer Fangmeyer," they all say simultaneously.

Fangmeyer returns to his duty and stands. "See you tomorrow, Wilde," he says, resuming his transportation of the prepared body. The two remaining officers cuff the unconscious perpetrator and drag him in the same direction.

Judy smiles at the clean front yard, then looks at him and her smile instantly fades. "You're crying again?" Sure enough, Nick's eyes are bloodshot and tears cover them. "And, may I point out, right in front of your fellow officers?"

He nods, wiping away tears with his palm. "It's how you express true feelings, Carrots. It's called being emotional, but I don't do it that much, so enjoy it."

She smiles. "I will," she runs towards the fox and wraps her arms around his waist.

Nick bends down and returns the hug, whispering into her ear: "And you said you didn't want a PDA," and they separate after a few seconds.

She looks at him. "Where are you going to live now?"

Nick pulls out a ring of keys. "I'm living here, Carrots. At least I'm not living alone. I've got Ja-"

At the inopportune moment, Jack walks downstairs in front of Nick and Judy, carrying two suitcases. He smiles and sets them down, taking a large, confident breath.

Nick looks at him skeptically. "What are you doing?"

He looks at Nick, grinning. "I'm gonna get out of here. I've been waiting for 11 years to get out of here!" he shouts happily, pulling Nick into a hug. "Love you, bro," he shakes Judy's hand. "It's nice to meet you. Judy, is it?" he says, picking up the suitcases and sprinting out without waiting for a reply. "Wahoo!" he runs around the corner and disappears.

Nick blinks away tears. "Losing one member of my family is already bad enough. But two?" he stands for a moment and puts his face into his hands. "I'm going to be all alone," he removes his hands from his face. "I guess living alone is better than living in the street. Or in a tiny apartment."

Judy grins. "No," she places her hands on her hips, leaning forward. "Here's what I say: living with _me_ is better than living by yourself."

He looks at her, raising an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

She rolls her eyes. "I don't want to put too much of a burden on you, but I want to live here with you. Do you mind? The last thing I want is you to be lonely."

He raises his eyebrows slightly, flashes a slight grin, then relaxes his face. "No, I don't mind," he says, and Judy about says something, but he puts his finger in the air. "Under a few conditions."

She sighs. "Oh, Nick. Always you," she looks at him seriously. "Fine, shoot. I mean, how bad can they be?"

He grins, tapping his index finger on the front door handle. "First, at this point in time, I don't think it would be okay for us to sleep in the same room, let alone the same bed. There is a twenty-five hundred foot room in there; we might as well take advantage of it."

Judy puts on a grin as she finds a loophole. "Emphasis on 'this point in time'," she grins and playfully taps his arm. "So, you _are_ hoping for that to happen, you sly fox!"

"I didn't say I was hoping that would happen, Carrots," he smiles again. "All I said is that I don't think it would be okay at this point in time. We're friends, not a romantic couple, okay?"

"Fine," she frowns. "Is that it?"

"No," he retorts, placing his index finger on his middle and index fingers of his opposite paw. "Second, I don't want to pay for all the bills on the house," he smiles and creates the rule at that specific moment. "So, I want you to pay your specific portion, at least half."

She rolls her eyes. "Yes, okay," she humorously bows down to him as if he is a king. "Oh, righteous king," She says in a deep male voice, "What other requests doth thou have?"

He rolls his eyes, smiling. "He places his index finger on his three center fingers of his opposing hand. "And three, you must pay for all," he points at her. "And I mean all, of the groceries."

Her eyes widen, retreating her hands to her sides, looking at him incredulously. "I'm supposed to pay for _all_ of the groceries?"

Nick bites his cheek to keep from laughing, but a snicker sneaks out. "You're so gullible, Carrots. I'll put a requirement of your portion. If you binge buy, you pay for it, unless it's your birthday or something."

She nods. "That's better," she pauses, scanning the room. "Getting back to our original conversation - if I can't sleep in your room, then _where_ do I sleep? On the floor?"

He nods, looking completely serious. "Although, there's still that vacant box at the toy store…"

She places her hands on her hips. "Seriously? Is this a joke?"

He chuckles, smirking. "Alright, Carrots, I was kidding. You can take my grandma's room."

She turns and smiles. "See you later. Gotta grab my stuff from my apartment and cancel it."

Twenty minutes later, after cleaning his grandma's incredibly hideous clothing off the floor and arranging furniture, Nick hears a crack of thunder and the patter of rain. He looks out the window, and to no surprise, sees heavy rain streaming over everything like fairy dust. He checks his phone for a reply from the text he had sent, asking her if she was okay in the rain, but she had failed to answer. He texts a couple more hesitant messages, retreats to the front room couch, and anxiously waits for her to arrive.

After about ten minutes, she knocks and her small voice echoes through the door. "Nick, it's me."

Nick raises his eyebrows slightly after he opens the door. She stands in the doorway, two wet suitcases hanging from her hands. Her ruffled fur drips water particles which dribble onto the already damp porch. He retrieves the suitcases from her soaked paws, sets them on the ground, and silently ushers Judy into the house by placing his hand on her soaked shirt. "What happened? Couldn't you have stayed under an awning or something?"

She shivers. "I-it hit m-me when I was walking fr-from the car a-as I got out. There was nothing to h-hide under."

He begins to walk away, leaving her standing on the linoleum floor. "The bathroom's right there," he points to a door across the living room. "I'll grab you a towel and I'll warm another one in the dryer. Although, if you want me to lead me in there, I can if you want."

"You're so nice," she remains in her position. "I think I'll wait for you."

Nick quickly returns to where she remains. He unfolds the towel and lays it over her shoulders. He gently ushers her across the living room, oblivious to the puddles she creates with each step. After reaching their destination, he kindly opens the door to the restroom and leads her inside. "The warm towel will be here in a minute," before walking off, he stops the door from closing. "Wait. Don't you need your suitcase?"

"Actually, I do. It's the purple one with the red flowers," she says.

"Okay," he picks up the correct suitcase and hands it to Judy. She smiles and pulls it and herself into the bathroom. Nick retreats to the dryer and returns, bringing it to her just in time. After a moment, she returns with a blue t-shirt and black, pants. "Do I look okay?"

"You're alright," he inspects her head. "Albeit..." he says, retrieving the warm towel from her and rubbing the top of her head with it, then he wets his finger with his tongue and begins to near her, but she slowly backs away. "What are you doing?"

"Don't worry, Carrots," he wets his tongue again, and this time, she doesn't move. It takes a couple of tries, but he manages to flatten the abnormal fur sticking up on her head. "There."

"Was I supposed to like that?" she asks hesitantly. "I don't feel normal feeling like that."

"Carrots, I won't tell anyone. Besides, this isn't romantic at all. I was just concerned about your physical appearance."

"Hey," she offers a short hug to him. "Thanks for the help."

He smirks at her. "Enjoy it. I'm not usually this nice," he smiles at her for a moment, and his eyes widen, slapping his hand over his face. "I forgot. Why'd I forget? Of _all_ things, I forgot _that_!"

She looks at him. "What do you mean, 'you forgot?'" She wiggles her fingers on the last couple words.

He takes out his phone. "I forgot to call my mom about my grandma," he groans. "My mom, her own daughter..." he dials the number and holds it to his ear.

His mom picks up. Her voice is medium-high but doesn't squeak. "Hello?"

"Hey, mom," Nick says, staring at Judy.

"Nick? You haven't called me for a while. You sound depressed. What's up, Nickety-Nick?"

He slaps his hand over his face. "Please, mom, don't use that name. You know it's really embarrassing for me," he says, and as he says this, Judy's eyes spark with curiosity.

Nick's mom sighs on the other end. "Alright. What's up, Nick?"

He smiles, then frowns at the curious Judy. "Much better," he looks away from her, blinking away tears. "Today something bad happened," he chokes on the words.

"What, Nick?" his mother replies faintly.

He sighs and begins to sob lightly. "Grandma, sh-she…"

She gasps. "No, you don't mean…"

He cuts her off. "I'm sad too," it becomes harder for him to speak. "She passed over two hours ago."

His mom sobs for a moment, and manages to speak. "I'll be right over."

He immediately stops crying, his eyes filling with horror. "No, mom. Don't… I mean… you can't. Please don't."

"I will, and that's that. See you in a minute, Nickety-Split."

His cheeks flush. "Mom, I told you not to say the previous one, but that one is even worse–" she hangs up, stopping him.

He looks at Judy. "Great. First, she calls me a name I don't like, now she's coming over."

Judy begins to jump lightly. "It would be nice to meet her."

He frowns, walking up to her. "No, it wouldn't," he points at her. "For you, maybe. For me, _no_. There is no way you are going to meet her, and we are going to keep it that way," he backs up. "In fact, when she gets here, I'm going to talk to her and get her away as fast as possible, way before you to say a _word_ to her."

She frowns. "Not where she's concerned. I'm going to meet her, _unless_ ," she points at him. "You tell me that name she calls you," she taps her head. "Wait a minute, not one, there's _two_. There's _two_ she calls you, and I want to know _both_."

He looks at her calmly. "Using my own medicine against me, aren't we?" He shakes his head. "No way, Carrots. I'm not telling you the names. You'll use them at work, and I'll be teased senseless."

She shrugs. "You'll have to choose, then. Either I meet her, or you tell me both names she calls you. Either I get a passive association with her, or you're embarrassed to tell your friend something _quite_ simple to say."

His eyes fill with horror. "Alright!" he backs up, covering his face with his hands. "She calls me Nickety-Nick or Nickety-Split. There, you heard 'em."

Judy covers her mouth to keep from laughing. Nick looks at her and throws his hands in the air. "Great. Now I've got my own _friend_ teasing me. What's next, my future wife?"

She stands up, giggling. "Sorry," she lets out another giggle. "It's cute, that's all."

He looks at Judy. "Now _I'm_ cute? If you can call me cute, then, why can't I?"

She looks at him blankly. "First, I called the _name_ cute," she points at him. "To answer your question, it's because bunnies have been called cute for years, and we've become tired of it. So, stop asking."

He backs up. "Geez, Carrots, don't get defensive."

She looks at him. "Now back to the question of before," she raises both eyebrows, eyes wide. "Does your mom even know I exist?"

He shakes his head. "No, and like I said before, we're going to keep it that way since you agreed."

She frowns. "Ok, fine," she lights up. "How about we go watch a movie? It's like ten-thirty. It'll be lunch soon."

Nick is opening the door, already heading downstairs. "Good idea. C'mon, slowpoke."

As they open the door to the downstairs room – a large, spacious room with a large, electric couch with touch-sensor footrests, an eighty-inch television screen, and carpeted with comfortable, 1/2-inch-thick carpet – Judy's eyes light up with curiosity and she plants herself on the couch, then puts her arms behind her head and stares at the blank TV screen. "Now this is the life."

"For once in my life, I must agree with you," Nick sits beside her, about a foot space between them. "It's a nice place, isn't it?"

"Are we here to relax – and don't get me wrong, I like this – or are we here to watch the movie?"

"How about we relax _and_ watch the movie," he stands up, scrambles toward the movie cabinet, and quickly retrieves a movie without any second opinion. He places the disc into the player, hoping she hadn't seen the title. Unfortunately for him, she had discovered already. "Why'd we have to do the Avengeers? Can't we watch something else?"

He turns to her. "Sorry, Carrots, but it's only fair. I got to tell you those names, and we're not even until we watch my favorite movie," he plops onto the couch next to her.

She grins. "Alright, Nickety-Split."

He turns to his friend, fuming. "Hey. I _told_ you the name; I didn't say you could _call_ me it."

She shrugs. "Sorry, Nickety-Split. What's it going to take to let me?"

He frowns. "I said, _stop_ ," he yells. He quickly smirks. "To _call_ me those names, you'll have to pamper me with all you've got."

She frowns. "Don't I pay attention to you enough?"

He shakes his head. "Yes, you do, but pampering is not just paying attention to someone."

She looks at him. "Well, what does it mean, then?"

He already has his phone out, and he presses a few buttons before holding it to his mouth. "Hey Zoogle, define pamper."

The device quickly finds an answer. "The main definition of pamper is 'indulge with every attention, comfort, and kindness; spoil.'"

Judy frowns at Nick's enticing smile as he places his phone next to him. "So not _only_ do I have to pay _attention_ to you, but I also have to _comfort_ you, be _nice_ to you, and not only that, _spoil_ you? What's that all about? I do that enough already!"

"Carrots," he frowns. "Your version of pampering is spilling coffee on my lap."

"Can you _please_ stop bringing that up?" she yells, frowning. "I told you – that was an accident! You were completely fine despite the searing pain–"

"That's quite enough," Nick partially covers his face with his paw, holding the other out to her. "Can we just get on with the movie now? We'll talk about pampering later. And _please_ , those mortifying moments are mortifying enough without you bringing them up."

She sighs, muttering a "fine," and rolls her eyes, then looks at the TV, which is now on. After a few minutes of Nick's attempts to start the movie, he manages to get it to turn on.

"There we go," he says, lying back, eyes focusing on the TV as the beginning scenes begin to flash on the screen. Judy, with short, centimeter-like movements, begins to move over to Nick. At first, he doesn't notice until her hip touches his. Then, he scoots a little bit further away without a word. Finally, she starts with inch-like movements, now reaching him three times faster than earlier. He now recognizes that she purposely is moving onto him, and as politely as possible, starts to push her away, eyes facing the screen. "Stop it, Carrots. Personal space is what I need right now. I don't want any pampering right now."

She again tries to move into him. "The pampering didn't start yet."

He shoves her away, eyes now off the screen. "You should still listen to me. What are you trying to do, _cuddle_?" She now moves in foot-like movements, reaching him multiple times before he begins to shove her away.

She nods. "Yes, I am. Now let me," she again tries to resist his resentments and again moves in on him.

His eyes again return to the screen. "Please stop, Carrots," this time, he tries to stand from his current spot, but falls back down with her strong grip.

She jumps on him, making him fall flat on his back on the couch. "Stop, Carrots," he yells, and she paws him in the stomach, lightly at first, then quicker and firmer.

He begins to giggle lightly. Judy looks at him in shock. "You're ticklish?" She starts to paw his stomach more rapidly. "Please stop," he pleads, pushing the bunny away for the next countless time.

The door to the basement opens, and Nick's parents walk in. His mom looks at him incredulously. "What are you doing?" Slowly moving in onto the two mammals, her face is visible now, a look of anger on it. She angrily stares at both animals.

Judy now sits next to Nick, and he stares between Judy and his mom.

 _I'm in trouble_ , the thought runs through his mind, _and I don't like the feeling of this._


	4. Sick

**Chapter 4: Sick**

In bed again, he closes his eyes. His memory allows him to vividly remember the moments following his mom's discovery.

The same pungent smell of fresh paint, and the nimbus of cool air in the basement. Darkness encompassing the large basement. The light pushing away the darkness as soon as the door opened. His mom's anger.

"It's not my fault, mom," Nick yells, trying to counteract her anger. "It's not what it looks like."

Nick's mom rolls her eyes. "If you really say that, then what were you doing with this bunny?" she says, angrily folds her arms.

Nick starts to speak, but Judy cuts him off. "I jumped on him. Honest!"

Nick's mom stares at Nick, not saying a word for a moment. "You were living with a bunny without telling me."

Nick looks at her. "I still am living with her," he pauses, receiving a menacing glare from his mom. "But I am 32 now, and there are some things I don't need to tell. I'm not a small and unbalanced kid like Judy," he says, managing a grin.

Judy rolls her eyes and Nick's mom's eyes again dart from her son to Judy, back and forth. She slowly turns around, walking out without a word. Nick's father, with a similar glare, turns to follow her.

The scene ends, and now he senses being back in his bedroom. The scene plays over and over in Nick's head as he lay in his bed the day following the incident. He rolls over onto his stomach and gropes for his mobile device, squinting after he finds the power button as the illumination spreads through the room and directly through his eyes. "4:47?" he mumbles to himself, returning the phone to its proper place and shutting his eyes. Desperate to have satisfying energy in the next hour, he distracts his brain to attempt to counteract his awareness. _It's 5 AM. You don't have to work today. Just... fall asleep._ After many uncomfortable of repositioning himself, he lets out a bloodcurdling groan, clutches his stomach, and realizes a strong wave of nausea that flows as gracefully through his abdomen as ripples in a tide pool. The intensity gradually starts from the top left of his abdomen, then ascends his esophagus, and then threatens vomiting at the top of his throat. Now feeling quite sick, he tries to counteract the feeling with a couple deep breaths, but the tactic fails. His arms begin shaking, then his whole body performs a similar action. After three more wavering breaths, he decides: _this is it. I gotta do it._ He brings his abdomen to a straight position, his limp legs still flat on the bed. Nausea then amplifies, and, with another blood-curdling groan, rushes out of the room and ducks into the nearest bathroom.

Judy sits up in her bed, a faint sound of coughing echoing through the dark hallway. She shuffles upstairs, and after a short travel reaches the white door, barely visible in the absence of light. She gropes to find the handle, finding it locked. She lightly knocks. "Are you alright?" She asks, still half asleep. Another cough, and then Nick responds:

"No," he quickly coughs into the porcelain bowl and clutches the rim for support. "I think it's appendicitis or something."

She rolls her eyes. "Can I come in? I gotta see if you're okay."

"Sure," he replies. "If you can handle the retching."

Judy slowly opens the door - after he quickly unlocks it - squinting at the bright light of the bathroom. She looks at Nick, hunching over the toilet, his pink tongue, coated white, hanging out, and panting lightly with semi-rapid breaths. She pats him on the back. "All I need to know- and this may seem like an odd question, but did you – y'know," she sticks her tongue out, gesturing her paw away from it. "Red or brown?" she asks.

"Don't worry, C-" he coughs again into the bowl. "Carrots. I haven't had anything come up - well, not much, anyway. My stomach's empty. Y'know, it's the normal color," he coughs once more, lifts his head, unwilling to speak any further, then he slowly stands. Judy leads him out of the room into his own room, with his consent.

They arrive in the darkened room. Judy slows her pace, then slowly, after they reach the bed, assists Nick into bed by grabbing hold of the underside of his knee and pushing it away from her. She rushes over to the opposing side of the bed, pulls him into position, then pulls the sheets up to his chest. "There you go," she lightly rubs him on the head, then pulls out her phone, taps on it for a few seconds, then puts it to her ear. After a few rings, a deep voice answers. She converses for about two minutes before taking the device from her ear and returning it to her pocket.

She looks back at her sick friend, his eyes now shut. "The doctor told me to take your temperature," he opens his eyes, nods, and silently motions toward the nightstand. Following his direction, she locates the thermometer and places it in the correct position in his oral cavity. After a few moments, it reads 103.5. "That's high. Are you okay?"

He looks at her. "Don't be a worrywart, Carrots," he coughs again. "A fox's temperature is 101.7," another cough. "It's a little high, but nothing serious."

She wipes her forehead, exhaling sharply in relief. "Do you hurt?"

He nods. "In my upper back," he silently motions to two portions to the left and right of his spinal cord, just below where his ribs end. Judy scampers over to his left side, lifts the covers from him, and considers Nick's direction at the pain. "It's not that bad, though. On a scale of one to ten, I'd give it a six."

"Do you want any medicine?" Judy asks, stepping away from him, looking at him with her arms folded. The doctor recommended-"

He shakes his head. "I'd throw up faster than a rat with food poisoning. I'll see how I am in about an hour."

She nods. "Try to get some sleep."

After two hours, Judy returns to Nick's room. The sun now beams, lighting the small room. She touches him lightly on the shoulder. "Nick?" she whispers.

He quickly places his hand on his shoulder, staring at her with tired, beady eyes. "I got shot there. So be careful next time, Carrots."

"Oops- sorry Nick," she apologizes, then, with a short delay, inserts the thermometer in Nick's mouth, who gags in surprise. She takes it out after a minute, reads it, and her eyes widen. "105?"

Nick looks at her blankly. "You're kidding, right?"

She shakes her head. "No. Your temperature is actually 105 degrees Fahrenheit."

He attempts to shrug. "Other than nausea, back pain, and feverish temperature, I'm fine. Really. Oh - and I threw up about an hour ago."

"You're not fine," she halts him from sitting. "You'd be fine if you could sit up without a wave of nausea pass over you."

He nods. "I'll show you," he begins, sitting up. Smiling with no nausea whatsoever, he says, "See?"

However, after a moment, he groans again as another wave of nausea penetrates him, and in the blink of an eye, Judy chases after the nauseous fox.

The bunny rubs her friend's back as he leans over the porcelain bowl, who again coughs deeply. She looks at the bathroom door to distract herself from augmenting her already nauseous feelings. "Let it out, Nick," she says, frowning at the disgusting stench of hydrochloric acid, pepsin, and leftover chyme. She fights the urge to show her disgust.

Nick looks at her. "Are _you_ going to be sick? I can read you like a book."

She shakes her head. "I'm fine. I just have a weak stomach – well, in these situations, at least."

He rolls his eyes as he stands up. "I wonder how you can keep your job. I know how disgusting it can be."

She nods. "I agree," she says, her phone simultaneously ringing. She retrieves it from her pocket, presses a few buttons, holds the phone to her ear, then chats for a minute, then hangs up.

He looks at her. "Who was it?"

"Bogo," she sighs. "He told us to come in _today_ , so I told him that it's Sunday."

He waves his hand anxiously. "Go on."

"He told me he doesn't care, but I told him that you're sick, and he told me to find a 'babysitter,' as he says," she wiggles her fingers at the word 'babysitter.'

He looks at her blankly. "What else, Carrots? Do I have to come in or not?"

She rolls her eyes. "Remember, Nick, that patience is a virtue," she continues, ignoring Nick's sigh. "Anyway, I told him that I already tried to find one, so he told us to come in as soon as possible."

Nick rolls his eyes. "There's Chief Buffalo-Butt for you. I was hoping for a day off, but I don't want to push it."

"Agreed."

He kindly touches her shoulder blades with his paw. "I gotta take care of some business," he leads her outside the door, his face now clearly uncomfortable. "Uh... see you in a minute."

After about a minute, he quietly peeks open the door. "Um, Carrots," he blushes. _Why is this happening to me?_ The thought rages through his mind as the skin underneath her fur begins to redden further. "I think you need to see something."

She murmurs under her breath as she follows him into the bathroom. He inches it open, hesitantly letting her in. "Okay, Carrots, so I was..." he palms his face. "Y'know, relieving myself. I'll show you what happened," Nick motions into the toilet, and her eyes widen. She grabs his arm. Without a word, she looks at him frantically as she leads him out the door. "We got to get you to a hospital."

Ten minutes later, Judy admits Nick to the local emergency unit. Noticing his acute symptoms, proper drugs are administered via an intravenous line, including an antiemetic, antipyretic, and analgesic, partially or entirely relieving his nausea and vomiting, fever, and pain respectively.

After several examinations and a urine test, the doctor walks into the examination room, where Nick sits in a grey examination chair, and Judy sits in front of him, in a chair, reading a magazine. She looks up as the doctor enters, still holding the magazine in both paws.

The room is gray and has a faint scent of sterility. There are no windows in the room, but a single light bulb gives the room an invigorating daylight color. "Well, hello," the doctor says. He is a fox that is slightly taller than Nick, wearing a white uniform. "Nick, the tests that we have confirmed – since you have been vomiting, have prominent hematuria, and have mild hypercalcemia – it looks like you have calcium-caused nephrolithiasis."

Nick rolls his eyes. "I'm not an expert, here. I'm a fox with a small amount of medical knowledge. What in the heck does 'nephro-'" he pauses to try to pronounce the word again. "Nephrolith... oh, I give up. What does that long word mean? I'm not a doctor – no offense. Oh, and sorry – what do the other words mean?"

The doctor chuckles. "No, but the word nephrolithiasis is the medical term for kidney stones - tiny stones that tend to form in the kidneys - and as I said before, the disease is calcium-caused. So, what do you get when you put them together?"

"Calcium-caused kidney stones," Judy smiles at her friend before he has a chance to reply.

The doctor nods. "Yes. About the other words, I have a chart," he hands it to him. "We've printed common symptoms of kidney stones, and I've circled the ones you've presented, along with the medical terms for them."

Nick considers the symptoms of his condition, then nods and hands it back to the doctor. "Yeah, you said those. And I had them."

"It's great that they allowed us to print that for you, right?" he chuckles, locating the cluster of information on the chart. "Anyway, we took a CT scan of your lower back and found two kidney stones, about 3 millimeters in size, and you should pass them with minimal to moderate pain. Drink lots of water, and you should pass them."

Nick frowns. "Is there a medicine?"

The doctor pulls out a pad. "Water pills, also called diuretics, neutralize and overpower the effect of the antidiuretic hormone, allowing the kidneys to produce _more_ urine than usual. They increase the kidney's ability to filter, which increase urine production. You sure you want them?"

"Yeah," he smiles and looks at the doctor. "So, if you give me these pills, I don't have to drink a lot of water?"

The doctor looks up from the pad and chuckles. "Oh, I wish it were that easy. A major side effect of diuretics is dehydration, and without water, the kidneys fail. Essentially, a repercussion of using diuretics is kidney failure – only if you fail to drink enough water," he rips off the prescription. "This is hydrochlorothiazide - a diuretic. Take one pill once a day until you pass them, or until the symptoms cease," he points at Nick. "Remember. Drink a lot of water. I plan on only seeing you here to check and see if you're free of those kidney stones."

Another short trip later, and Nick and Judy walk through the front door of the house. "Well, that was fun," Nick says with a smile.

Judy rolls her eyes. "No, it was not. First, a $100 medical bill, and a $10 bottle of pills that I paid?"

He looks at her. "The only reason you paid it was because you volunteered to. Oh, can you get me a glass of water? This is so I can take my pill - and then I'm going back to bed."

After about half an hour, Nick shuffles down the stairs, rubbing his eyes. "Carrots?"

Judy looks up from her phone as she is sitting on the couch. "Is something wrong?" she starts to stand from her position.

He nods, sitting next to her. "I've been waking up every 15 minutes and going to the bathroom. Do I need to go to the hospital again?"

She laughs. "No, silly. The doctor prescribed you with a water pill, so remember that it increases urine production."

He nods. "That explains a lot. It must've slipped my mind."

"How are you feeling?"

He nods. "Okay. I might've already passed the stone."

She puts her hand on his forehead. "This may seem personal, but," she looks at him, wording the question in her mind a couple times before putting it verbally. "Is your pee red – and does it hurt when you urinate?"

"No and yes."

"Then you would have a lower chance that you passed your stone than your disease is communicable. Practically zero, if you put it into perspective," she pauses, then raises her paw to his forehead. "Twelve years' experience with fevers tell me that you're still warm."

He rolls his eyes. "101.7, Carrots. Remember, a fox's temperature is 101.7," he says softly. Before he can say another word, Judy stuffs the thermometer back into his mouth.

She smirks. "Just as I thought," she shows it to him. "104."

He stands up. "I'm fine, really."

"Does anything hurt?"

"A little ache in my back, yeah," he shakes his head. "I'm telling you, Carrots, I'm fine. I can handle my nausea, so we should go to work."

She gapes with a full ear-to-ear grin encompassing her face. "Did you really say you wanted to go to work? I have honestly never heard that come out of your mouth. Ever."

He nods, rolling his eyes again. "C'mon, Carrots. Let's go."

She shakes her head. "No, Nicholas Wilde, I am not allowing you to go to work in that state. Please get back to bed."

"Let's just run a little test," he says, beginning to walk upstairs. "I go to work like this," he gestures at himself with a thumb to his chest. "I feel nauseous or have bad pain, I go home," he cranes his paw forward, keeping his forearm erect. "Alright?"

"If you say so," she sighs. After his couple steps up the stairs, she says under her breath, "You're in for a major surprise, buddy."

Thirty minutes later, Judy anxiously knocks on Nick's closed door. She wears her uniform, unbeknownst if he even wears any portion of his. "Nick, it's been thirty minutes; we're already late as it is!"

"I realize that," comes the muffled reply. "I'm almost ready, Carrots."

"Hey, don't put _too_ much effort into your fur of yours."

"I won't, Carrots. Just, y'know, finishing some touch-ups on my uniform."

"Well, get out here! You can do that in the car."

He rips open the door with one paw, crosses his right leg over his left. He plants his left paw on the door to support himself. He now wears his uniform, an extra-shiny badge, and a forest of decently combed fur. "Be honest, Carrots. Will I make a fool of myself looking like this?"

"Wearing the uniform, yes," she looks at him with a trifled smile.

He curves his mouth into a frown, cocks an eyebrow, and places two fists on his hips, still in the same position as before. "So, is the way I put on the uniform, or just the uniform in general?"

"I would think it's the way you put it on, right?"

He rolls his eyes, augmenting his frown. "Really, Carrots. Do I look good or not?"

"Yes, yes, I was joking before. I don't know why I did, though. Now we're even later than before."

"Good observation, Fluff," he says, rubbing her head, and proceeding down the stairs in a confident manner.

Achieving his quick pace, she looks at him kindly. "Alright, Nick. I was thinking of stopping somewhere for a quick breakfast. Are you okay with that?"

"If you can guarantee I won't spew."

"Oh, hush," she says, playfully waving her hand at him. "So, I take that as a no? Rhyme unintended."

"Two more great observations. You sure you're not any of those great scientists?"

Leaving her speechless, he leads her to the car, then she steps into the driver's seat and proceeds to the station in his grandma's car: a black car with comfortable seats, decent steering, and excellent front-and-back suspension. The seats also raise, leaving her just enough room to reach the pedals.

"Hey, Carrots," Nick acknowledges once locating her inside her cubicle at the ZPD. She looks up from the considerable stack of paperwork piling up on her desk, then turns from her computer to look at him.

"What, Nick?"

"You found us a mission yet?" he asks, crouching in front of Judy's computer.

"Can't. Got all this paperwork to do. It would help if you did some of it," she says, frowning at his amused smirk. "Anyway, did you tell the chief what happened?"

He shakes his head. "Why would I tell the chief? I mean, he doesn't need to know that."

She nods, glancing back to her paperwork. "That's true. Now, do you–"

Officer Fangmeyer appears in the cubicle, stopping her mid-sentence. "Hey, Nickety-Split. The services for your grandma are this afternoon," he says, bringing his paw up to his mouth, exhaling rapidly through his nose to suffice his urge to laugh.

Nick stands from his location, eyes widening. "Why the heck did you tell him that?"

Judy bites her lip. "Not _him_ ," she points at a group of officers near the lounge. " _Them_ ," she backs up at Nick's crisp stare. "And by them, _all_ of them," her eyes widen even more, teeth pressing together as she backs further away with her revolving desk chair.

Nick forms his hands into fists, nostrils flaring. "You told _everybody_?" He yells, apathetic of the eyes staring at him.

She nods. "Yeah? It just slipped out. I'm sorry."

He stares at her, pure fury in his eyes. "I'm going to tell everybody _your_ secret, now."

Her eyes widen. "No. You don't mean…"

He nods. "I'll make yours 'slip' just like mine did. Watch me."

"Nick. Please don't," she slowly shakes her head, nose randomly twitching.

He shrugs. "Too bad, Carrots. You promised to keep it a secret, so I'm going to do the same thing to _you_ ," he stomps away, leaving the pathetic Judy in her cubicle. She silently weeps as she scans the room to attempt to locate her raging friend.


	5. Koala

**Chapter 5: Koala**

"Well, here we are," Nick says with a smile, holding his arm out to a glass door, supporting the door in his grasp.

"Thanks," Judy enters under his arm. "You're being nice to me now?"

"What do you mean?" he asks playfully, entering after her. "Trust me, Carrots. My genuine kindness doesn't show – ever."

Judy looks toward the ceiling, shaking her head and smirking as the door closes upon them. A nimbus of cool air encompasses them. The frigidity of the room is unsurprising, considering the emptiness of the main lobby. Blue, cushioned chairs wait in a large portion of the room; a large counter with a black countertop, housing a single administrator, stands quietly; and a large fish tank sits on a large wooden counter. The black counter accommodates a small sign, reading "Welcome to the Zootopia Marine Biologist Lab". Nick looks around, and finally the air penetrates his fur. "Wow, it's cool in here, Carrots."

Judy looks around at all the machines scattered around the room. "Tell me about it. It's awesome."

Nick shakes his head. "No, I mean it's _cold_. You know – frigid, wintry, freezing – those words."

Judy rolls her eyes. "Oh," she says. "I didn't notice," she smiles, turns her head from him, and approaches the lone administrator. Nick trails behind her with his paws folded behind his back. The administrator glances up as they approach, saying with a cold, raspy voice: "How can I help you? Hurry up and get on with it."

Clearing her throat gently, Judy smiles politely and stands erect to face the administrator. "We would like to speak with the head administrator, please."

Oblivious of Nick, the administrator, a koala bear, stands from her chair and leads Judy into the back room. "She's right there," she points to a biologist, whose back is turned to them. The administrator notices Nick suddenly, eyes widening, and returns to her lodging without a word.

Exchanging glances with her friend, Judy approaches the biologist and gently taps her on the shoulder. She jumps and whips around. "Oh, you gave me a fright," she says, her eyes tracing over to Nick. "Holy _fishface_! Why did you bring a _fox_ in here?" she mutters in a thick, almost unintelligible accent, lifting a single finger at a posted on the large aquarium printed in a large black font - "FISH-EATING MAMMALS ARE STRICTLY PROHIBITED IN THIS FACILITY."

Judy nervously eyes Nick, his face flushed with fury. Judy nears the koala, inches away from their noses touching. "What did you say? Nick is a _mammal_ like everyone else here."

The biologist's eyes dart around the room. "Well, I thought he might try to..." she trails off from the sentence. "Well..." she stutters, again pointing at the sign. "I'm – trying to go by those rules, okay? He might, uh, w-want to eat our fish," she eyes him carefully. "And, well, there are much fish who are going to die soon," she keeps her eyes fixed on Nick. "And we don't want anybody to cause harm to them."

Nick's eyes widen. "Uh, no thanks. I wouldn't eat a raw fish to save my _life_ ," he smiles, licking his lips. "However, since I'm thinking about it, it would be nice to eat a cooked, seasoned salmon…"

A weight presses down on her stomach. She takes a forceful breath, struggling for another. She closes her eyes, resumes normal breathing, and looks at Sheryl. "Not now, Nick," she dismisses, looking at the marine biologist with a smile. "Sorry, he's like this all the time. If you don't intimidate him too much, he's harmless. In fact, he was afraid of the dark before he turned fifteen," Judy laughs awkwardly, looking at Sheryl's apathetic glare. "Anyway," Judy shakes her head rapidly and puts on a warm smile. "I didn't catch your name."

The marine biologist, a koala bear, holds out her hand. "S-sorry. I forgot to tell you. I'm Sheryl Pandyril. What is your name?"

Judy takes her hand. "Officer Hopps, ZPD," she pauses for a moment. "Again, I apologize for my friend's immature behavior. He's harmless, nonetheless."

Without a word, Sheryl smiles and nods at Judy before Nick approaches her. "I'm Officer Wilde," he takes out his notepad and flashes his badge at her, to dismiss her suspicion. "I need to ask you a couple questions. First, we both received a notice that a kidnapping occurred under a day ago. Do you believe this?"

Sheryl nods. "Yes. I saw it with my own eyes."

"Do you have any information of what happened?" Nick says while Judy looks at him.

Sheryl smiles. "Yes. They moved very fast. They wanted to get out very fast because I saw him - he moved very quickly. He looked like koala bear - like me. He moved very fast - I can't see him when I did. That's all I know," she says, and Nick smiles at Judy for the koala's poor English.

Nick places the small pocketbook into his pocket. Judy heads toward the door, gesturing for him, but he interrupts with a soft-spoken, unintelligible phrase. She whips around to ask for a repeat of the phrase, and he has disappeared. Judy looks around, repeatedly calling his name, but instead receives a cluster of eyes pointing in her direction. Unwilling to abide by the "No yelling" sign on the wall, she exits through the door, yelling her friend's name in vain. After a short duration, she retires to a table at the coffee shop, located inside the building - silently looking for Nick.

"Carrots?" Nick asks.

Judy looks up, jumping at the sight of Nick sitting across from her. "Sweet cheese and _crackers_ , Nick," she says, exhaling sharply. "You gave me a fright," she retires to placing her paw on the table, about three inches from his paw.

Nick raises both hands in the air. " _What_? I told you I was going to the bathroom and getting a coffee. Didn't you _hear_ me?" he gestures toward the beverage near his left paw. "Do you want anything? I didn't ask you."

She smiles. "No to both questions," her face changes as soon as she processes what Nick had said. "But the bathroom _again_? You went half an hour ago!"

He smiles. "Now you're forgetting," he points at himself. "Remember? _Diuretics?_ Water pills?"

She sighs. "Right," she pauses, waiting for the right moment to say something. "How can we catch this perpetrator if they can move so quickly?" she frowns.

"Well," he takes a sip of his coffee. "The only way for somebody to move that fast is to drink 50 cappuccinos and be on diuretics, and not going to the bathroom for a month."

Judy laughs. "That was not relevant to the question," she smiles at Nick's comment. "You're funny, but I want to be serious and we can be funny later. Let's _be_ serious –" she pauses, placing the palm of her right paw over her left fist. "How do you think we can catch this perpetrator? He's getting on my nerves."

He grins. "First, you ask him to stop climbing on your nerves," his smile doesn't fade when Judy's glare augments. "And two, we should get to the police station and do some research," he stands and skillfully shoots the Styrofoam cup into the trash can.

She walks to his side. "Couldn't finish it?"

He shakes his head. "No, I finished it, all right."

She rolls her eyes, smiling. "You're _disgusting_."

He smiles. "Thanks. And Carrots, you still want something? This is your last chance."

"Really, Nick," she smiles and leads him back into the shop. "You got me. Get me a donut."

A donut, a short car ride, and thirty minutes later the two arrive yet again at the Zootopia Police Department. The air in this location differs from the town thirty minutes away - much less humid. Sweat ceases to develop on the mammals' fur.

"Hello, Hopps," Bogo greets. He smiles and looks at her, smiling humorously. "Still liking _Dory the Explorer_?"

Judy frowns, eyeing Nick, pulling him around the corner into an empty meeting room. The odd smell of the room does not deter her from her purpose. "When you said you would tell everyone my secret, I didn't know you would," she says, slowly, voice rising. She gently pokes her friend in the abdomen, and he attempts to shove it away. She quickly forms her hands into fists and cast them to her sides. "You jerk!" she storms away, leaving the fox stranded in the small meeting room.

After about ten minutes of self-rationalization, Nick slowly maneuvers himself over to where the main offices sit. He walks through curves of cubicles until his subject catches his eye.

"Judy," Nick grinds his teeth as he dawdles into her cubicle. He carefully scans the cubicle for any darts implanted into a picture of his face, and fortunately, finds none.

"What?" she snaps, her eyes still glued to her computer. She shoves from her desk and turns her chair toward him. "Can't you leave me alone?" she shakes her head, turning from looking at him and returning to her desk.

"Carrots–"

"Would you stop calling me that?" she barks, noisily slamming her paws onto the desk. "Really!"

"Okay, Judy. You'll never hear this come out of my mouth again, but I..." he coughs. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry? You spilled my secret to everybody! The very secret that bound our friendship! You swore you would never tell anyone, and guess what happened?"

"Well, Judy, I did, and that was wrong. I should never have gotten so angry at you telling those names. On the bright side, we're both even."

"But you let everyone know! Something I can't accept, now that I'm grown. You have it easy."

"Easy? Are you serious? Your situation is way in the past. Judy, my grandma died, my brother left, both of my parents embarrassed me, and then one of my friends announced one of my private names. Has anyone in your family died? Has anyone left you alone? Has any member of your family embarrassed you beyond your realization? Not that I'm aware of."

"I shouldn't've taken it so hard."

"Trust me, Judy, I know how it feels to be embarrassed. Remember the locker room incident?"

" _The_ one?"

"The one everybody talked about at the Academy? Yeah. There wasn't a day that didn't have public embarrassment. I even remember going home one night and threatening to leave the academy. But, I got a phone call. It was somebody who encouraged me. Guess who helped me?"

"Well, it –" she sighs, looking up at him. "It was me."

"Yes, it was you. You helped me through this embarrassment and changed how I thought of myself. You motivated me. Every day after that, I thought you knew how to handle embarrassment. Now, I know how you act when you're embarrassed. And I can identify that. I got your number the first day of meeting you, and every time I associated with you after, it added to what I thought about you. Now, I got both the good and the bad."

"Yeah, I know, Nick," she looks up from the ground. "But it was my fault. I started all of this. I made you angry, so I think it is my fault both our secrets are now known publicly."

"Don't tell anybody we did this, though," he holds out his arms. She embraces the fox, rubbing his back, avoiding a passionate tone. She looks over Nick's shoulder.

"Uh, Nick–"

"No, it's okay. You're okay."

"No, I didn't mean that," she separates from him and gestures toward the entrance of the cubicle. Five officers stand there, attempting to hold back their vexatious gossip between one another. At any one time, at least one enthralls at the two mammals, dissuading another from doing the same.

Nick stands from his position, staring at the group in vexation. "Why, hey, guys," he says. "I was just here apologizing. Would you care to ask why you're all here watching?"

Officer Fangmeyer, the leader of the temporary crowd, emerges from the crowd. "We're here to record this precious moment."

"Must you?" Nick stands, moving his neck from side to side until a few satisfying cracks emit. "Are you challenging me, Nick Wilde, to a wit battle?"

"Yes, I am," Fangmeyer looks both directions and stares directly at him. "Yes, I have to know about this. I have to know everything around here."

"Wow," Nick smirks. "That's surprising. I mean, you should be working." After this remark, a couple 'oohs' emerge from the crowd behind them.

"Me? I'm just working to outwit you," Fangmeyer smirking also. The reaction from the crowd is much stronger now.

"Outwit me? You're sadly mistaken. I'm standing here working, too. And if I add to your little comment about knowing about everything – I don't think you know this – Bogo's standing right behind you."

Fangmeyer's eyes widen, and he turns to the infuriated boss behind him. "Chief!"

"Fangmeyer! What is this nonsense?" Bogo shouts, folding his gigantic arms across his broad chest.

"Uh, nothing, sir! I was just talking!"

"I don't believe conversation, especially your conversation, is exciting enough to have a crowd, Fangmeyer. Office, now!" Bogo says, pointing away from the business area. Bogo looks at Nick after a moment. "Wilde, explain yourself!"

"Sorry, sir," Nick fades from his smirk, and now wears an emphatic smile. "Fangmeyer came up to me and challenged me to a wit battle. I didn't want to get in trouble, though, since I knew you were coming over. Don't worry, I'm over here working with Hopps."

"Good. I thought I heard otherwise," Bogo points two fingers, in a 'V' shape, at his own eyes, then at Nick. He turns and walks away.

Without any reaction, Nick smiles and walks over to Judy. "Let's take care of business, Carrots," he kneels at her computer, glancing at the small screen. "Did you find something?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, Nick. Don't get ahead of yourself. You just won a wit battle against Fangmeyer and got away with lying–"

"First of all, Carrots, I did win a wit battle. So, what? He stepped in. Second, I did not lie. I stretched the truth. I worded the question _specifically_ to get him in trouble. I didn't say, 'I challenge you to a wit battle.' I said, 'Are you challenging me, Nick Wilde, to a wit battle?' You see?"

"All I wanted to say is you did great. You didn't even get in trouble."

"Remember the day when you tried to arrest me?"

"So that's your reply?" she smirks. "Oh, I get it now. You're implying that you avoided even _my_ attempts to outwit you."

"Bingo, Fluff. Do you want to hear my tactic? Okay, here it is: I create the cheesiest and most sandbagged comments to deliberately underperform, and then I hit them with my best. Now, that I'm not getting ahead of myself in a business perspective, I'm going to ask the same question: 'did you find something?'"

She rolls her eyes. "Yes. I was looking into the directory for the marine biologist lab, and, well, it has all koalas for employees. A koala was also our witness' claim of the perpetrator's species. If all the employees are koalas, then–"

"–The perpetrator is one of the employees," Nick cuts her off.

"Yes. But wait – our witness claimed the perpetrator moved fast. What do we do from here?"

"You have access to the security cameras now?"

She nods. "What's that supposed to do with it?"

He chuckles. "Hey, you complimented me as 'Junior Detective' the day we cracked the case of the Night Howlers. This implies that you're a better detective than me. You should know by now."

"Oh, hush," she says, considering the screen once more. "Ooh, Nick! You may have found the secret to this case!" she opens the program to the footage and opens the section for the marine biologist lab. "You remember what time he was kidnapped?"

Nick looks up from his phone. "What?"

She frowns. "Nicholas Piberius Wilde, I am so close to taking that phone away."

Nick does not set his phone down. "Hey, take it easy on the middle name. I don't know yours – you're lucky that you know mine. Nevertheless, I was just looking up when he was kidnapped. Here, I'll read it to you off ZNN: 'The abductor was reportedly known abducting the suspected abductee today at approximately 2:08 AM.'"

She enters the time and date, and the screen appears. The video shows a figure, and the figure disappears. Judy raises her eyebrows. "What happened?"

Nick waves her hand away, "This may seem a little déjà vu here, but if I wanted to spot someone moving quickly on a video, I'd slow it down," and he configures the settings to play at 2% speed. He plays the video, and the figure is there in a couple of frames, and another, koala-shaped figure passes over the figure, and they both disappear. Throughout the entire tape, no other koala bears are in the room. Nick reverses a few frames back and forth until arriving at the most quality frame. He hits the print command. After a moment, he collects the photo from the printer. "Here, look."

After a couple of seconds of close consideration, she looks up at him. "I think we've got our perpetrator."

Nick smiles. "Yeah, I know who did it."

Judy nods. "Me too."

Nick grins. "Okay, then. We both say the suspect at the same time, when I count down from three. Ready? 3, 2, 1."

"Sheryl Pandyril."

Now back at the Zootopia Marine Biologist Lab, Judy eyes the administrator. "I already told you, put the _entire_ building on lockdown. We are law enforcement. Do as we say."

The administrator frowns. "We can't do that without the manager's permission."

Judy rolls her eyes. "Where is Sheryl Pandyril?"

"In the lab, like she always is. Why?"

Judy walks away, ignoring her question. Nick follows suit, looking at the administrator. "Sorry, I guess she doesn't want to chat right now. I'm a police officer. We won't hurt anyone," he performs a sympathetic grin and follows the impatient rabbit.

"Alright," Judy snaps, walking over to Sheryl, Nick on her side. "Freeze! You are under-"

Sheryl quickly spins around. "No, you freeze," she mutters and elbows Judy in the stomach. She falls to the ground, clutching her stomach. She lets a heavy groan emit from her and she slowly stares at Nick, who looks at Sheryl, pure fury emitting from his eyes. He darts over to the koala, and she roundhouse kicks Nick in the head. Nick falls to the ground, his awareness fading. He considers Judy's violet eyes.

 _That went so fast…_

Then everything goes black.

Seeming moments pass. His eyes shoot open, and he only can register his perception by waving a paw in front of his face. The cold cement floor sends a wave of frigidity up both arms and legs, meeting at his midsection and slowly fading up his back as he accustoms to the feeling. He jolts at a sudden wave of pain locating at his ankles, only to find a rope generously tied around them. He moves his wrist up, but his other wrist follows. The same pain, now locating in his wrists, travels down his arms and jolts him again. He shivers, rolling over and ends with his back to the floor.

The rope prevents his paws to shake, and instead his body vibrates multiple times. He manages a wavering breath and struggles for another. He finds it difficult to swallow, but manages to choke down a few milliliters of his own saliva after a moment. Moving his tongue inside his mouth, he shudders after finding the inside of his throat sticky, as if he had held his mouth agape for a long period of time.

His attention shifts to his head, and he lifts both paws up to his right temple. Pain radiates from this area, and he clenches his molars together to help endure the pain. This pain is so intense that he feels his respiratory system cease for a moment. He finds himself only capable of sitting without air, and he does so until he feels as he might pass out. He places his paws up to his mouth and winces at a foreign material adhered to it.

He holds his paws up to his mouth and picks at the edge of the material atop his mouth. He almost yells out in pain after pricking his cheek with his claw. He retreats his paw from his mouth and dexterously attempts to peel back the material yet again. He manages to puncture the material with his claw and pulls the material from his mouth.

Air rushes into his body, and a confusing bout of lightheadedness overtakes him, so much so that he comes very close to going unconscious. He recovers quickly, and he again grimaces at the recurrent pain locating at both his ankles and wrists.

 _I need to get out of this._

Fearfully, he moves his hands in a complicated motion, but still, the rope fails to release from his wrists. He sighs, disappointed that his fierce studying on the very technique so many months before had yielded nothing but two painful wrists. He returns his wrists back to the normal position and tries again, but still, the rope refuses to release its indigent grasp. He hits his back to the wall, closing his eyes. He winces as the pain in his head doubles, and he makes a mental note to be aware of pain in his head before ramming his head into a concrete wall.

 _It's all over,_ the thought inside of him comments. _You're just going to sit here in this dark room and starve to death, or worse._ He cannot bear to imagine the torture Sheryl would put them through if he and Judy fail to escape.

When he opens his eyes again, he notices a shiny edge of something about his height. As he adjusts his viewpoints by barely two degrees, it disappears. Nick moves his head back and forth to find the glare moving up and down the object. He looks over at the door, finding a small gap between the door and the ground, permitting the light to shine directly on the object. He hobbles over to the location and holds his paws up to attempt to cut the rope, but still cannot reach the sharp object from his kneeling stance.

 _Sharp object._ A smirk encompasses the lower portion of his face. _Bingo._

He twists the bottom of his palms in opposite directions, so the fingers of his right paw hover over his left arm. Adjusting the location of his right paw, he releases a claw on the index finger of his right paw. He focuses on his wrist as accurately as possible in that dark room, and accidentally slashes his wrist, making an awkwardly vertical incision of his fur and top layer of skin. Pain radiates from this area, and he forces himself to avert his attention to the task at hand. Again, he focuses the claw of his right index finger to the rope. Useless to look anyway, he closes his eyes and moves his finger quickly toward his palm.

He opens his eyes to a lack of pain where he imagined pain would appear at that moment. In fact, relief only exists because the rope no longer remains tied on his wrists; instead it hangs loosely over his left arm.

He shakes the rope free, massaging his painful wrists with his other paw and doing the same with the other wrist. He cuts the rope on his ankles with his claw, and he massages those also. He contemplates his courage over attempting to cause serious flesh damage to his wrist or free himself, and almost laughs over the fact of accomplishing both.

Before approaching the door, he holds his paw up to the accidental laceration on his left arm, then touches it with his right forefinger. He lets out a breath of relief upon finding no blood on his finger, and, mind on the cut, instinctively directs himself toward the door, reaching his hand toward the door and his paw lies upon a furry round object. He rubs it and the object slowly ducks from his reach. Through his night vision, he can see a ball with a nose and two long ears protruding from the top. It connects to a slim body, much like a bunny.

Nick immediately recognizes the shape and grins. "Carrots?"

She looks up. "Nick," she squeezes his waist. "I couldn't see well, but I think I tripped on a bucket or something before coming over here."

"Uh-huh," he replies inattentively. He examines the room, and arrives at a shelf. He collects an object, noticing the silhouette of the thin object is capable of fitting in his palm. "Hey, Carrots. I found a key."

Judy smiles. "Isn't it a little bit cliché that somebody put the key inside the room?"

"Maybe," he tries the lock and opens the door. "I got it," he says, the light of the outside penetrating his eyes. The room outside never had changed, the lab they had gone to earlier, and the empty fish tank illuminates the room. "Hey, Carrots, there's no fish. There goes my chance for a nice dinner..." she eyes him. "I was kidding. Now let's get out of here before something else happens."

The two partners walk through the dark hallway, down the stairs and out the door of the establishment. The alley is dark, and even with his night vision, the darkness prohibits sufficient visual perception.

Nick brushes his hands on his uniform. "Well, it was strange that nobody noticed us escape," he waits for a reply, but Judy has now disappeared from his sight. He slowly prances around the pavement, assuming her location. "She's probably already in the car," he mutters to himself.

Through the darkness, his vision perceives a vague shadow, one of which he cannot recall the shape of. As he attempts to make out the shape, his mind draws him to thinking of Sheryl. She had made them think she was innocent and foreign, unable to communicate or behave in any logical way. But they were wrong. She had expected them to return after finding her as a suspect, and she had known exactly what to do.

In this darkness, a figure appears. This figure is short and has ears of unintelligible shape; Nick cannot tell if their ears are either tall or short. This figure, through careful studying, appears to have a chunky build, but their movement is nimble. Moments into the careful studying of the mammal, Nick steps back at a sudden movement of the mammal, appearing sudden and dangerous. Without thinking logically, Nick curls his paw into a fist and throws it upward in hopes of hitting his supposed target – Sheryl.

His body fills with a cold chill of fright after a grunt, one very light and innocent, emits from the figure. Realizing the flashlight on his belt, he sighs to himself, retrieves the device, and clicks it on. Light shoots in a straight line onto his victim.

Judy, barely conscious, is sprawled on the pavement. Her jaw appears slightly irritated, and through closer inspection he finds inflammation. Scooping up his partner, tears develop in his eyes as he cradles the unconscious officer in his paws and maneuvers ungainly to the police cruiser, where he lies Judy gently into the back of the cruiser.

He shuts the door to where Judy lies. Fear shakes his body, and he can barely focus on the task of transporting her to – where?

Where should he take her?

If he should take her to the hospital, they would treat her, and the security unit would get involved in her injuries and ask Nick how this occurred. He'd surely be arrested, fined, and in the most severe case, fired. They would jail him for misconduct. His already blemished record would become dirtier than ever.

If he should take her to the police station, he would be scolded for not taking her to a hospital. He'd be prosecuted further for her injuries, and surely suffer identical consequences of the previous situation.

With a groan, he slams his paw on the metal door and gropes for the handle of the driver's side door. He pulls it open, then heaves himself onto the seat by pushing the car door. In seconds, he moves the car from where it he had parked it.

"Is she _okay_?"

Nick asks the question to the doctor, who repeatedly gives irrelevant information. _He's distracting me. He's waiting to tell me the bad news._ Finally, after Nick repeatedly and hesitantly tries, the doctor answers him.

"She's… okay. A mild concussion because of extreme pressure to the jaw. Other than that, she's okay. We have her on medication for the inflammation to her bleeding tongue – called glossitis – from the force of that punch."

He hadn't told anyone that he had caused this injury. Nobody had questioned him yet.

Now, ungrateful of her survival, he glances at the floor of the waiting room. His vision becomes wet, and soon closes his eyes. Tears peek from under his eyelids and run down his cheek, and he does not bother to remove them. He lets no sound escape from his mouth, and instead keeps his eyes staring directly at the ground.

Minutes pass, and the doctor invites Nick to Judy's room. Nick stands and follows the doctor to Judy's temporary residence. At the beginning of the hall, the doctor verbally directs Nick to Judy's room, and Nick starts down the hall.

He whispers the room numbers as he passes each placard outside every odd-numbered door on the left side of the hallway. His steps slow as he recites Judy's room number to himself: "147." After a moment, he returns to reciting the numbers after passing each door: "139… 141… 143… 145…" he looks ahead, and the next door frightens him. He walks up to the door frame and looks at and recites the number of the placard just beside it. "147."

He places his back on the wall to the right of the door, then stares at the wall directly across from him. He'd never contemplated how she would react after she came to, and now is the time to meet with her. He takes in a weary breath, then closes his eyes. "Nick. She enjoys your company. She won't get too mad – what's the worst she can do? Besides, does she get mad often? No!"

"Nick?"

Before mustering another word of his hesitant pep talk, Nick freezes in place. He now focuses on hearing another letter of the source of the sound. It takes a moment before he realizes who had spoken. _Why do rabbits have to have such good hearing?_

He proceeds into the room, then looks at her. She lies comfortably, no visible bandages or gauze anywhere on her person. Her eyes stare at him as he approaches, and a smile spreads across her face and her ears perk up.

Her reaction stuns him that she had managed to look excited in his presence. Her life had been changed because of him, but she still managed an excited look as he approached.

"Carrots–"

He finds her finger placed over his mouth. "Nick, I know ith was an axthidenth. I forgive you."

Footsteps.

The footsteps become louder and louder until two officers barge into the room, fully dressed as Nick is. The officers, without delay, look to one another and silently decide on who must speak. One officer, who Nick knows best as Officer Wolfard, looks to Judy in her bed. "Good evening, Officer Hopps. Do you mind if we question you a bit?"

Before Judy can muster a word, Nick looks up and interrupts her. "Uh, guys, Judy can't really talk that well, so do you mind if I talk for her? I'll let her correct me if she needs to."

"Okay?" Officer Wolfard says, looking down at his sheet fastened to the clipboard. "Officer – Wilde, on behalf of Officer Hopps, how can you best describe the person who injured you?"

Nick closes his eyes, refusing to answer for a moment. He turns his head to Judy, and their eyes meet instantly. She nods, opens her mouth, and again, Nick interrupts her. "Wolfard – I have a confession to make. I did it. I hurt her. Accidentally."

Instantly, Wolfard and the other officer exchange skeptical glances. The other officer stands up and stops beside Nick, carefully watching him. Wolfard proceeds with the investigation, looking at Nick again. "And, Wilde, can you please describe this accident?"

"Yeah. Um, it was late, and Judy and I were both outside the Zootopia Marine Biologist Lab after Sheryl Pandyril, the CEO of the Zootopia Marine Biologist Lab, kidnapped us, and of course, this was after we had escaped. I thought I saw Sheryl outside with us, so without thinking, I punched Judy. I meant to hurt someone other than Judy – I mean, I thought it was someone _other_ than Judy, but I couldn't see who it was."

Wolfard, looking especially concerned, holds his communicator up to his mouth. Seconds pass, and another officer proceeds into the room, taking Nick by the paw and arresting him. Nick, looking to both officers in confusion. "Hey! Guys! You've got the wrong guy! I mean, I didn't do anything wrong! I wanted – I wanted to help, but it was an accident that I hurt her. C'mon, hear me, guys!"

"Officer Nicholas Wilde, you are under arrest for misconduct," the officer on Nick's right asserts, unfazed. "You have the right to remain silent..." his voice trails off as all three mammals' footsteps fade into the hallway.

The only word Judy can muster is, "why?"

If only he hadn't done this. If only they hadn't gone to that establishment, none of this would have happened.

 _I guess it's fate_.


	6. Bomb

**Chapter 6: Bomb**

"When I first met you, it was love. I cannot comprehend my love for you."

Underneath a large cement pavilion, cheery decorations hang around various pillars supporting the cement roof. Underneath this roof, a large crowd stirs about below a stage. This crowd wears a variety of formal wear, including tuxedos and dresses. On the stage overlooking the crowd, two mammals – one wearing a beautiful white dress and the other sporting a tuxedo – stand dreamily.

"You may kiss the bride."

The stereotypical phrase. Two are getting married - classic for those who love one another deeply. One loves the other, and the other loves the one. They choose to arrange a huge party for themselves, of which the family or the couple arrange. Usually, it involves toasts, kissing, and vows, or in some sort of order of that. Music is also involved - creating the perfect environment to join a couple for some to believe "till death do you part" or sometimes "for time and all eternity." No matter the religion or belief, the marriage is the fundamental portion of a couple's lives.

Nick and Judy stand – in the audience. In fact, it is Jack Wilde and some other vixen participating as the groom and bride.

Nick closes his eyes, fighting the urge to watch the kiss of his brother and his wife. Internally, he wishes he can just scamper out of that wedding and leave. Forever. Life rationalizes with him that simply weddings do not work that way. And manners.

After a moment, the entire hall erupts in cheers, glasses clinking. Nick barely notices an unknown vixen carrying a sizable bouquet of flowers in the audience, while multiple mammals climb around her to attempt to retrieve it. Screams, shouts, and playful laughter echo the pavilion, making Nick's stress headache amplify. He sets his head down on the table and rubs his head back and forth on the surface, dragging and rumpling the pink plastic tablecloth atop the table.

Nick opens his eyes and grudgingly clinks his glass of water against Judy's cup after lifting his head up. They both sip, and the reception breaks out as the couple walks off the stage.

Judy starts to get up. "You want some cake, Nick?"

He shakes his head, which surprises Judy. "Okay, something's _wrong_. I can tell," she says, looking both directions before looking at him. "You're lucky we're in public, or I'd really try and get it out of you."

He sighs and smiles, resting his arms on the table. "Now _you_ have feeling detecting powers? Where'd _that_ come from?"

She frowns. "C'mon, Nick. I _need_ you to tell me," she walks up to him and rubs his head. " _Please_?"

He nods, taking his head off the table, and she retreats her hand to her side. He sighs. "I couldn't thank you enough. Now, please stop making commotion. I don't want to file you with a PDA."

She furrows her eyebrows. "What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

He smiles, rolling his eyes. "What? A PDA?"

She shakes her head. "No, silly. I meant the "I couldn't thank you enough."

He grins and looks off at the stage, now crowding with family members. "You really don't remember? You–"

Jack walks up to Nick and Judy, stopping him mid-sentence. Jack looks at his brother and smiles. "Hey, bro. Sorry for leaving, but my wife," he leads her up, his hand on her back. "Her name is Crystal," he points at Nick. "This is my brother I've been talking about. Name's Nick."

She smiles, holding out her hand. "Nice to finally meet you."

He rolls his eyes. "Hi," he mutters, shaking it.

Jack continues, pointing at Judy. "This is his girlfriend, Judy."

Judy bites her lip. "Um, we're not actually, um, _partners_ – well, not in that way. We are at the ZPD. We're both police officers," she says, points at Nick and herself.

Crystal frowns. "I see. Anyway," she holds out her hand, a smile returning to her face. "Nice to meet you, too."

Judy takes it. "You too."

"I gotta go to my parents now," Jack says, walking away, placing his arm around his wife's back. He turns his head to Nick. "But it was a nice talk."

Judy looks back at Nick. "Aren't you going to see your parents?"

He shakes his head. "Heck, _no_. I've been avoiding them all day. They'd be mad to even see me, and if they saw you, well, then I'd have a better chance of surviving in a shark infested sea for a _month_ then having my mom slapping me in public."

Judy laughs. "Fine, you win. But let us at least go back to the conversation from earlier, before your brother interrupted us."

He nods. "As I was saying," he taps his head, then shrugs. "What was I saying?"

Judy chuckles. "You were talking about how you couldn't thank me enough? Something about that..."

He smiles. "That's right. You–"

A bloodcurdling scream encompasses the outdoor hall, forcing Nick to stop mid-sentence and speedily push off the table and sit erect, his head pointing toward the sound. He stands and quickly trots toward the sound, trying as politely as possible to push frantic wedding attendants out of the way. He flips open his badge, holding it in one paw and slowly showing it to the crowd. "ZPD – coming through," he chants. Toward the middle of the pavilion, Nick manages to locate the cause of the scream: a masked perpetrator holding a black remote with a red button. Nick frowns. "Couldn't this guy think of another plan, besides holding a black remote with a red button, I mean, seriously. It's fake."

Judy looks at him, her eyes wide, and an exaggerated face of seriousness plasters on it. "No," she shakes her head. "There's a bomb in here. My gut is telling me that. Plus, he's holding a button."

Nick smiles. "C'mon. You set this up, didn't you? C'mon. Tell me that you–"

Judy places her finger on her mouth. "Sweet cheese and crackers, Nick! Can't you learn to shut up? I did not set this up," she hisses at him, glancing her eyes about the room.

Nick frowns. "Fine. I'll lead everyone away from the building. I guess that's appropriate enough."

Judy spins around from trying to listen for the bomb. "That is a terrible idea!" She finds him gone. "Nick?"

Nick sprints past all the frantic guests, sliding under tables and dodging heads and arms. He jumps out from a crowd of guests, his 22-caliber pistol in hand. "Hey," he yells. The entire hall goes quiet.

The gaze of the perpetrator shifts to Nick. "Oh, a tiny fox holding a pistol," he waves his hands in the air. "Help me!" he yells, a heavy sarcastic tone in his voice.

"Hardy-har," Nick says, adjusting the gun in his hand. "First, you're only a foot taller than me, but that doesn't mean that I am 'tiny,' I am simply a different species," he cocks the gun. "Second, drop the controller and put your hands behind your back!"

He scoffs. "What, are you a police officer or something, I don't see your badge."

Nick takes the badge out of his back pocket and shows it to the perpetrator. He smirks and puts on a fake worried face. "Oh, what a coincidence. Officer Wilde, ZPD," he puts the badge back in his pocket and puts both hands on the gun, his face returning to normal. "Now, I need you to get on the ground, and drop the controller."

The perpetrator begins to speak when Judy emerges from behind him, stealing the small controller from his hand. Judy waves her badge in his face and retreats to the ground, controller in hand. She takes out her pistol, holding it to him just as Nick is.

The perpetrator stands there, slowly backing up. "What are you going to do now, blow up the dining hall? I hid the bomb in there, so you'll never find it."

Judy shakes her head. "I did find it, and I hid it somewhere where you'll never find it."

The perpetrator shrugs, and starts to walk away, facing the two officers. "That's it, then?"

Nick hardens his lips and stares at the perpetrator. "Stay there. Turn around, and put your paws behind your head!"

When the perpetrator turns around, a small circular object appears plastered to his back. Nick doesn't think much of it, so he faces his partner. "Where did you put it, anyway?"

Judy smirks. "You'll see," she places her two hands over her mouth. "Hey," she yells.

The perpetrator, now a few feet away from where he is, turns around. "What?"

She smiles. "Do you want to know where I put the bomb?"

He starts to walk forward. "Where?"

She waves forward. "Backup about twenty feet, and I'll show you."

Nick's eyes widen. "You didn't..." he slowly blinks, thinking. "No, you _couldn't_. You _wouldn't._ "

Judy puts her finger to her mouth and turns back to the perpetrator, detonator in hand. "Ready? 3, 2, 1," she presses the button.

Nothing.

Seconds pass. Nothing. Maybe the bomb had already blown up. Judy shrugs and tosses the detonator to the ground, crushing it to smithereens with her tiny foot.

Yet another ten seconds pass.

It occurs very quickly: an enormous explosion fills the small field, covering the entire park in smoke. A tolerable scent of a barbecue fills the field, like burnt wood. A stench fills the air suddenly, one of intolerable, rancid meat. The smoke carries both the scent and the stench and remains in the air for several minutes. Nick stands in the middle of this cloud, pain searing through his head as if someone plunges ice picks into both of his ears simultaneously. The pain travels upward to his forehead and remains there for several minutes.

Gradually, the nimbus of smoke, dust, and steam dissipates. No remnant of the perpetrator remains, and to replace him is a huge gaping hole in the field – a fifty-foot diameter hole. After a moment, he takes a deep breath and stares at Judy, his eyes seem to burn right through her skull. She puts both hands in the air. "What? Did I do something _wrong_?"

Deep in the pit of his stomach, resentment starts – as if a little bit of kindling ignites. Now, the hypothetical kindling begins to flare up, and gradually, larger sticks replace the burning mass, burning with the intense heat. Every time a hypothetical log enters, he begins to feel rage.

He clenches his fists and then takes a deep breath. "Stay calm," he mutters under his breath. He releases his fists and rubs his forehead. "Okay," he snaps, biting his lip. "Why in the _heck_ would you detonate a bomb? I mean, can't you have any _mercy_? You aren't supposed to _detonate_ the bomb," he puts his hand out in front of himself and slaps Judy firmly across the cheek. "You're supposed to _wait_ for the bomb officers! I mean, what were you _thinking_?" he yells. "That was clearly the dumbest and most idiotic decision you have ever done! Are you not yourself today? You're stupid! What's going to happen now? You'll be charged for murder, or worse!"

Judy rubs her cheek. Her mouth lay slightly gaping, and she stands there, breathing heavily. "All I wanted to do was get _rid_ of it," the words barely escape her mouth. Slowly, she lowers her head and begins to cry because of the abundance of insulting comments.

Nick opens his mouth to speak, but stops himself. He again takes in another breath, and spins around, and angrily stops off.

Twenty minutes following the disaster, a couple of farewells from Nick's parents, and the early adjournment of the wedding, Judy retreats to an unharmed park bench, which faces the large, gaping hole in the field. Judy closes her eyes, trying to talk to Chief Bogo, who him and her both sit on a bench in the park, watching over a dump truck carefully back into the hole to release dirt into it.

Bogo sighs, his hand on his forehead, then retreats it to his lap as he crosses his right leg over his left knee. "Alright, Hopps. I need a good explanation or there is going to be grave consequences," he stares blankly at the large-sized hole as dirt begins to fall into it from a nearby dump truck.

Judy nods. "Yes. The reason I blew up the bomb is to get rid of the weapon. I don't know what I was thinking... I just..."

Bogo slams his fist on the bench. "Hopps! The bomb squad easily could have taken over," he snaps, returning his fist to his lap.

Judy nods and frowns. "Yes, but where could I put it after I found it? I didn't want the robber to steal the bomb so he could threaten someone else with it. I had probable cause to detonate it."

Bogo rolls his eyes. "That's what you're not telling me! What probable cause did you have to detonate that bomb? You murdered a citizen who easily could have been taken to custody for his actions. Taking such extreme measures are strictly, and I mean strictly, prohibited, unless we authorize it."

"Well, Chief, about the probable cause – the robber was threatening everybody. He hid the bomb somewhere, so I had to find it. Nick tried to evacuate the dining hall, but we took care of the robber. Then I strapped the bomb to his back and blew it up. Nick got mad and stormed away."

Bogo nods, rubbing his calf. "Okay. Go talk to Wilde, then come back with him. We'll decide on your consequences then."

Judy nods, saluting weakly before mentally retracing the steps, then following the direction where Nick had stormed off. She strolls, turning right to the nearest park, a small grass field and a playground with two lone swings, in which one Nick is sitting on.

Down where Nick remains, cool air sweeps the area, decreasing the intensity of the daylight. He feels a sudden urge to pant. He looks ahead of him, and he locates Judy, walking slowly up to him.

 _How does she apologize for this? She committed murder. Her job, her friendships, and her life are at stake now._

As she approaches, he leans his head down, looking at his lap. He stuffs his paws into his pockets, pushing off the ground again to propel himself lightly. The sound her paws stepping through the soft sand permits him to lift his head. He sports an emotionless gaze straight at her, moving as she approaches the swing next to him.

Judy finally gathers the courage to say something after two minutes of swinging. "I'm s–"

Nick stops her, putting his finger in the air. "Judy, I was already angry at you, but that doesn't compare to the fear I have for you. I don't think you understand the severity of what you just did."

"Yes, I do."

"Trust me, you don't. By detonating that bomb, you put one-hundred-and-fifty people in danger. You put a hole in the park. You even kill somebody. We both easily compromised him, and you _still_ decided to kill him. You know what that's called, right?" before she has time to answer, he stops her. "Murder."

Her eyes widen as she stares at the ground. "I'm a murderer?"

"Yes, you are!" he yells, staring at her. "I don't think even I understand, Judy. There are so many unresolved consequences that result from this. Look – the maximum sentence for a threatening is five years in jail. You killed him instead. You'll lose your job, go to jail, and then you'll lose your record. You won't be able to apply for a job anymore."

"You at least got to give it a chance," Judy says, looking up from the swing. "There's been cases when police officers were let go for murdering others. Maybe that'll be my case."

"I dunno, Carrots," he looks down at the ground for a moment, then he reaches his arm up to her and massages between her ears. "Mmm," he says, massaging around her ears. "Your fur feels good."

Judy smiles. "You don't know how good it feels for the one being massaged."

Nick takes his hand off her head, and she frowns. "C'mon, do it more," she demands, gripping his paw, attempting to pull it back to her.

Nick shakes his head and tugs at his wrist, pulling it free. "No thanks, Carrots. I don't want it to get too romantic."

Judy frowns. "Can I at least rub your head, now?"

He sighs, bending down to her. She squeals in excitement, pulling her paws up and lightly massaging his ears. The light, short fur of his head tickles her paw. She rubs her paw up and down his head. Nick places his foot on the ground, the ball of his foot supporting the foot, and his foot rapidly bounces from the ball of his foot at a rapid pace. "How does your fur feel so fluffy?" Judy asks, and at the sight of his reaction to the massage, she begins to bounce the ends of her fingers off his head.

He smiles, still bent down to her. "I shower every day. I use fur moisturizers and enhancers. How can it get any better?" he catches the sight of her fur. "Maybe I should lend you some of them. It looks like you could use some of it."

Judy cradles her head in between his ears. "Maybe - and that feels even better than massaging you."

Nick chuckles, quickly ducking his head from her. "Alright, that's enough. Let me guess, Chief Bogo sent you here to apologize and bring me to him."

Judy's eyes widen. "How'd you guess that?"

He taps his nose. "Smell," he stands from where he is and quietly gestures her over.

Judy repeats his action, touching his nose, and shaking her hand in the air. "Your nose is wet."

He shrugs as they turn around the corner. "Thanks for noticing, Carrots. My nose is wet only when I'm sick or really hot," he resumes his walk over to the chief.

Judy's eyes widen. "I can assume that you're not sick, and I can assume the latter, considering you have been sitting in broad daylight for the past 20 minutes."

He nods. "Yes. My fur is fluffier when it's dry, so that's not the most fluffiness of my fur. As you can tell, I've been in the sun for a bit."

She backs up slightly. "You know what, too much information, Nick," she pauses. "How about we focus on Bogo now?" They arrive in the park where the incident occurred.

"Well, speak of the devil," Nick says, pointing at Bogo as they get closer to him. "There he is now."

Judy shoots Nick a look as they walk up to Chief Bogo. He frowns at the two officers. "Alright, Wilde," he says, looking at Nick. "Was there any way you could've stopped Officer Hopps from detonating the bomb?"

Nick swallows, fiddling with his tie. He finally can muster a sentence. "No. She-" he stops himself, taking a deep breath. "She didn't tell me where it was. She said to the robber," he cups both hands over his mouth as Judy did earlier, "'hey, do you want to know where I put the bomb?'" he puts down his hands. "She counted down from 3 and deliberately pressed the button."

The chief nods, waving him away. "Nice talk, Wilde. Go sit over there," he says, pointing over to a set of tables. He takes a deep breath. "Hopps," he yells.

Judy walks up to Bogo. "Yes?"

Bogo smiles. "I have considered your consequences," his face falls. "The perpetrator did deserve consequences for his actions – maybe a five-year sentence. But death was too far, I feel. Unfortunately, I will have to arrest you before we hold the trial. Then we'll decide on your consequences."

Judy's eyes widen. "Please. No, Chief. I'll do 400 hours of community service or something, but please don't put me in jail," she pleads, shaking her head.

Bogo shrugs. "We have to let the jury decide that."

Nick puts his head off the table, eyeing Judy to see if Bogo is treating her right. He stands up at the sight of Chief Bogo putting handcuffs on her wrists. Nick runs up, standing with his mouth gaping. "What are you doing?"

Bogo shakes his head as he finishes cuffing her. "Don't you start. She is a police officer, but an animal is an animal, so anyone can commit a major crime," he says, leading Judy away. "I'm going to assign trial at 11:00 tomorrow, Wilde."

Nick runs up to Bogo. "Wait one second. Can I please say goodbye to Judy?"

Bogo sighs and releases the cuffs on Nick's partner. She runs up to Nick and jumps into his arms, allowing her to snuggle in between his neck. She squeezes him one more time before jumping off, back to Bogo.

Bogo stands there, tears forming in his eyes. Nick looks at him. "Hey,"

Bogo looks at Nick. "What, Wilde?"

Nick points at his eyes. "Don't you hate it when you forget things?" He snaps at the word 'forget.' Nick continues. "I mean, it's just like you know something, and then you forget," he snaps his fingers at the same word.

Bogo stands there, confused. Nick looks at him. "Weren't you doing something with those?" Nick points at the handcuffs.

Bogo shakes his head. "No. I don't even know what I'm doing here. See you later, Wilde and Hopps. Work at 8:30 tomorrow morning."

Nick nods as Bogo walks away. Nick does a little fist pump, exhaling sharply. He plops down on the grass, laying on the grass. Judy jumps on top of him. "What did you do?"

Nick shrugs. "First, you're stepping on my spleen," he points at his stomach and Judy jumps off, allowing him to stand up. "Second, I've been taking these free hypnosis courses online to make people forget stuff. That was my second time attempting that."

Judy's jaw drops. "You hypnotized him?"

Nick nods. "Yep."

Judy walks forward, squeezing Nick's torso. He returns the hug. "Well, that seems like the end."

Judy shakes her head. "This is not some fairy tale."

Nick nods. "I guess it isn't. Anyway, how about we go home and I'll teach you some hypnosis?"

Judy shrugs. "Alright. I just don't want to cause permanent damage."


	7. Crisis

**Chapter 7: Crisis**

Nick quickly jolts open the door following a short knock, and instinctively looks out as he does so. A fox, several inches shorter than him, wears a black t-shirt which hangs over his broad shoulders. A shaggy brown coat sits over this, obviously used from years of exposure to the elements, and a pair of loosely fit jeans sit on his waist. "Hello," the stranger speaks firmly, fiddling with his fingers. "I need somewhere to stay for the night," he says, and after a moment, he quickly glances into the house.

Nick looks at the stranger, then at Judy, who is now standing next to him. _What's this guy gonna do? If I let him in and take my eyes off him, he'll rob me blind!_ Nick bites his lip hesitantly, then grasps the side of the door and pushes it away from himself. "No thanks..." he mutters nervously, preparing to rebut any reason the suspicious figure must stay.

Surprisingly, the figure remains silent. Judy eagerly stands erect beside Nick, smiling at the stranger. "Good evening, sir. May I help you?"

The fox slowly nods and again plays with his fingers. "Uh, yes, ma'am. I was wondering... um ... if you could allow me to stay for the night? I'm a little cold."

Judy looks at the figure and slowly rubs her lips together. Her emotionless face erupts into a large ear-to-ear grin, and she politely gestures him inside. "I don't see why not!"

Nick again glances at the figure as he waltzes over to the dining table, prepared for only Judy and Nick. Judy quickly fills the empty spot on the dining table with an extra dish. _Why'd Judy let him in?_ Nick wonders, slowly pulling himself into the nearest chair originally designated for him. _Can't she remember the phrase "don't talk to strangers?"_ Judy does not seem to notice the stranger's emotionless gaze at his empty bowl.

"Vegetable soup," Judy introduces, ladling a portion of the soup into each of their bowls. She quickly joins the two mammals with her own soup and quietly looks at both before digging into her food.

The stranger politely offers a closed-lip smile, quietly staring at the dish. "Looks delicious. Thank you."

"No problem," Judy says, sitting down next to Nick, who holds his phone in one paw.

After a moment of silence, the stranger begins to take a bite of his soup and suddenly drops it into the bowl. "How _rude_ of me," he holds his hand out to Judy. "I forgot to introduce myself. The name's Alfred."

Judy shakes it. "Judy Hopps, ZPD."

Alfred holds his hand out to Nick. "And _your_ name?"

Nick looks up from his phone, refusing to remove both paws from it. "Nick."

Alfred, quickly realizing that Nick is not in a good mood, retreats his hand to his side and takes a bite of his soup. "This is great, Judy."

She smiles. "Thank you. It's probably just because you haven't eaten for a day..."

Nick deviates his phone over in Judy's direction. "Look. A guy in the news, named Alfred Devney."

Judy returns to her food, spotting Alfred bent over the table, his hands hovering a foot above Nick's food, his palms face down into the soup as if he is casting a spell on it. "What are you doing?" Judy objects.

Alfred quickly sits back in his seat. "Just trying to listen in," he smiles. "Sorry to be rude."

"What's with your hands over Nick's bowl?"

"Oh, sorry. I have a little bit of an autistic problem when I think things are there when they really aren't–"

"So, you hallucinate?" Judy asks suddenly, taking another bite of her soup.

"Yes," Alfred replies suddenly, returning to his food. "As I was saying, I 'hallucinate', and I sometimes do things others find rude. I grew up in a different country."

"Well, Alfred, your lack of accent had me fooled," Judy replies, giggling. "On a different note, we might as well start eating while our food is warm, right?"

Alfred nods. "Why not?" he says, digging into his food.

Nick sets down his phone face down on the table, ignoring Alfred's halfhearted stare at him. "What were you talking about?"

Judy waves her hand downward. "Oh, nothing. Alfred was just leaning over to try to listen to what you were saying."

Nick shrugs as he takes a bite of his food. His eyes widen, and the muscles inside his mouth clench, allowing him to harshly spit an object from his mouth. The object, now laying on the table, is white and upwards of half a centimeter long. "Now, that's gross. What is that?"

Judy shrugs. "You probably got an overripe carrot or something," she examines the white object he spat on the table. "Looks like one of our carrots lost its color and went way overripe," she smiles at him. "Well, I'll try not to replay that."

He shrugs. "Okay then," he takes another bite, smiling. "There's not one in there."

Judy nods. "Told ya."

A couple casual conversations later, Nick leans back in his chair, laying his right paw palm-down on his stomach. He drops his spoon from his right paw into his half-full bowl. "Carrots, I don't feel too good. I'll be upstairs if you need me."

Without taking serious note, Judy nods and returns to the conversation with Alfred. Alfred, watching Nick take slightly disoriented steps up the stairs, turns to Judy. "What's with him?"

"Oh, he felt a little sick. I'm sure he'll be fine. Do you mind if I go and check on him?"

"What? Oh, no, I don't mind. Go right ahead."

"Stay here and eat your soup," she says, taking her bowl upstairs with her as she ascends the steps. She strolls atop the carpeted floor. Frankly, she feels intensely nervous over Nick. She fears what he might have eaten was something much more than a rotten carrot. Not wanting to second guess herself, she enters his room, door already ajar.

Her eyes lock on him. He prostrates on the bed, groaning. As he breathes, his breaths are sparse. He holds his paws to his head, groaning as if the pain is encompassing his head. Judy's eyes widen at his condition. "Nick!"

"J-Jud-Judy," he struggles to speak, groaning. "H-hel-help!"

Judy nods and rapidly dials a number on her phone. "Yes, 911?"

"This is emergency services. State your issue," the operator states apathetically.

"Yes," Judy says calmly, but with a pinch of worry. "My friend is lying in bed and looks like he's in a lot of pain. He has shortness of breath."

The operator's voice becomes slightly quicker than before. "Alright–"

Judy cuts the operator off by calling out to her suffering friend. "Nick!" she looks at him, who lies still, rocking lightly. Suddenly, his body movements cease entirely, and he lies lifelessly. "Nick! Operator, he just passed out," Judy moves over to him and puts a finger on his Nick. "He barely has a pulse, and his breathing is almost gone."

"Okay. Medical services are on the way. Stay on the line with me. What is your name?"

"Judy Hopps. I am an officer of the ZPD."

"Okay, Officer Hopps," the operator warmly states. "Your friend's name is Nick, right?"

"Yes," Judy says, eyeing Nick again. "That's his name. He's an officer too. We're at home."

"Okay, Officer Hopps. I would like to ask you to stay on the line with me. Okay?"

"Yes, I will."

"Okay, Judy. Please check his pulse, and tell me if he's breathing or not."

She puts her fingers to his neck. "Uh, barely any pulse. He's not breathing."

"Okay. Start CPR, but do one every two seconds. What species is Nick?"

"He's a fox," Judy says, starting CPR on him just as the operator had said. "He's male, about four feet tall–" she stops to see his body go stiff and start to shake rapidly. Fear fills her – horror. "He's shaking really rapidly now."

"He's seizing. He's losing oxygen, so you need to keep the CPR going, but more rapidly now."

"Okay," Judy says, speeding the CPR. "How long 'till the paramedics get here?"

"Two minutes. Hang in there."

Two minutes later, the paramedics burst through Nick's door and begin to assess him. "Okay, Judy, right?" One fox paramedic says. Judy nods and the fox paramedic points to Nick. "That's Nick?"

"Yes," Judy says, and the fox paramedic, named Shan, takes over CPR for her.

"Excellent job, Officer Hopps," Shan says, assessing the patient. "When did this happen?"

"He went upstairs about ten minutes ago and said he didn't feel good. I went to check on him, and he looked uncomfortable. He had sparse breathing, and he looked in a lot of pain, especially in his head. When I called 911, he passed out about a minute later."

"Okay," Shan says, and with the help of the other officers, carries Nick away in the stretcher. "Okay, Judy. Follow us in your car, but don't run the lights if we do."

"I have a cruiser. I'm a ZPD officer."

"Okay. Follow us, but keep your emergency lights on."

Judy nods, very weakly fumbling after them, stopping after seeing Alfred standing there by the table. Alfred frowns as he looks at her depressed face. "Cheer up. He's going to be _fine_."

She picks up her keys and runs to the door. "You're not the paramedic. Stay, you can watch TV or something," she says, shutting the door behind her.

Judy jumps into her cruiser, flicking on her lights, and quickly drives out of the driveway. As she holds the wheel with her left paw, she holds her communicator in her right. "Base, this is Hopps. I've got a 10-39 with Wilde, who is currently being transported to a hospital via emergency services. I am using my lights and siren."

"Thanks for notifying, Judy," Clawhauser says. "Do we need to send backup?"

"No need to. However, I believe his condition may have been a result of attempted homicide. I will provide more information as soon as possible, but could you send a unit or two down to our residence just in case?"

"We'll see if that's possible. Do you have any suspects?"

"There's some guy inside our house named Alfred."

"Species?"

"He's a fox."

"Okay, Hopps. We'll get a unit down there to investigate as soon as possible."

Judy performs a speedy parallel parking maneuver after arriving at the local hospital, then rushes into the emergency room. Just as she enters the cool atmosphere, the hospital bed, containing Nick, disappears. The burden of dissatisfaction and horror remains with her as she ambles to the waiting room. The burden pushes her down into her seat.

She stares at the floor with tears flooding her eyes. Her paws weigh heavy with her burden of mixed feelings. _Why would anyone want to do this?_

 _He's so innocent_.

The doctor looks at his patient, a fox. He lies unconscious on the hospital bed, lifeless. Wires sprawl out from his body, connecting to machines that monitor him. The doctor looks him over, his stats, and other information. "Well, he's partially asphyxiated. Was there any information regarding how he got like this?"

The paramedic stops at the doorway. "Well, no. I can bring the patient's friend in here if you want."

"No, I'll go talk to her. Nurse, watch him for me," the doctor says, walking out to the waiting room. "Ms. Hopps?"

Barely registering the sound of the doctor's voice, Judy stands from her spot and looks up at him. "How is he?"

"I need to ask you a couple of questions if that's okay."

"That's fine."

"Okay. He's deprived of oxygen, but we don't know if he suffocated in some way prior to this. His oxygen level is barely sufficient. Did anything happen that could have caused this?"

"Well, I invited someone in for dinner, and as soon as Nick took his first bite, he spat out a white object, saying it was bitter. Before I knew it, he was upstairs, lifeless," she takes in a shaky breath, coughing, then her eyes tear up.

"Thank you, Ms. Hopps. I think I may have a guess as to what happened. We'll make him better," he assures her, smiling. "Trust me, he'll be okay."

Without a reply from Judy, he retreats into the emergency unit. He examines for the nurse and speaks upon locating her next to the critical patient. "Okay, nurse, it looks like he ingested something dangerous. Can you get a carboxyhemoglobin level on him, and a blood culture?"

"Yes, but it might take a few minutes to get back," she takes a needle and performs the test. The doctor takes the opportunity to rush back out to Judy.

"Ms. Hopps?"

The delay between both his visits seems forever. It had been barely two minutes. "Is he okay?"

"We think he's been poisoned. We're taking a blood culture and another test to see if he has any illegal or dangerous substances in his blood. But, Ms. Hopps, your friend is lucky. Had you not gone and checked up on him, I'd be signing a blue death form instead of a release form."

Judy nods as she returns to her chair. The doctor rushes back into the patient's bay, where the patient still lay lifeless. No sign of the nurse is apparent. Looking at the patient's monitor, he sighs to see his oxygen level decrease slowly, now at eighty-five percent. Another hour and the patient certainly is dead.

Five minutes pass and the oxygen level of his patient reads eighty-three percent. Just as the doctor expects the oxygen level to lower further, the nurse rushes in, waving a piece of paper in her hand. She stops in front of the doctor, wheezing. "Doctor. We're lucky that the lab had no other cases. We managed a four-minute detection," she hands the doctor the paper. "But, I think we found what we're looking for."

Looking over the blood culture, he lowers his eyebrows. "There's nothing wrong here."

The nurse looks over the paper and points toward the bottom. "Look at his carboxyhemoglobin level."

"Twenty-five percent! Wow. Get him on hydroxocobalamin, 5 g, intravenously, as a single infusion over 15 minutes."

"Yes, doctor." she says, quickly connecting him to the medication.

Judy enters Nick's hospital room, which the nurses had transferred him to quickly after the diagnosis. Nick lies still on the white sheets, reading a book. Judy quietly walks over to his bed, and Nick sets down his book, looking at her blankly. Judy looks at his book. "What you readin'?"

Nick picks it up. "To Kill a Zockingbird," he closes it with one hand and sets it on the table. "A really good book."

She nods. "I gotta ask you - what happened at the house earlier?"

He shrugs. "Heck if I know," he looks at the door. "The doctor should be here soon."

A second after he says this, the doctor, named Dr. Thompson, walks in. "Good morning. I see that you've responded to treatment."

He frowns. "What treatment?"

"Well, Judy told me you ingested something poisonous. You had a low oxygen level, and we took a test called a carboxyhemoglobin level. Turns out that the percentage of carbon monoxide that bound to your hemoglobin – the chemical in your blood that delivers oxygen – was twenty-five percent. Any higher and you would have died. We gave you an anti-cyanide medication called hydroxocobalamin."

"I was poisoned?" his eyes fill will fear.

Dr. Thompson nods, then turns to Judy. "Judy, did you make dinner then?"

"Yes, I did. But both Nick and I can prove that it wasn't me," she turns to Nick. "You remember Alfred?"

"Yeah," Nick says, annoyed. "The three-foot jerk?"

Judy rolls her eyes. "Yeah, him. Do you remember him hovering his paws over your food?"

"Yes, I do. He said he had autism."

"I don't think that was it."

The doctor eyes her. "So, Alfred poisoned Nick?"

"It looked like it. I asked him what he was doing, and he told me he was trying to listen to news –" she pauses. "–wait a minute."

"What?" Nick says, looking at her. "I was reading the news, so what?"

"About Alfred Devney. Nick. Pull that up again."

Nick rolls his eyes and pulls up the news. "There. They said he escaped jail yesterday."

"Is there a picture?"

"Yes, his mug shot," he scrolls down and hands his phone to her. "That's him right there."

She studies the picture. "That's him. Alfred," Judy looks at the doctor. "Do you have a multi-frequency radio?"

"Yes," the doctor picks it up and hands it to her. Judy adjusts the frequency and holds it to her mouth.

"Clawhauser!"

"Yes, Hopps?" Clawhauser says, yawning. Judy does a mini fist pump.

"Clawhauser, I need you to get units at my residence now. Do you know Alfred Devney?"

"Yes, I do, the mass murderer who was put in jail. Hopps, I can't get any units. Nobody's responding; they're all on duty right now."

"Well, make this a priority and call someone out."

"Everyone's at least three hours out. There was an issue in Deerbrooke County."

Judy slams her fist on Nick's bed, almost hitting him in the foot. "Can't you get Chief out?"

"Tried. He's in Deerbrooke too."

"Well, I can't leave! Nick's here."

"I can't leave either. I've got a police station to take care of. Do you want me to call someone in?"

"No, they're too far away. I guess I'll have to investigate myself," Judy nods at both the doctor and Nick. She hands the doctor the communicator, then she walks out.

An hour and thirty minutes later, the cyanide in Nick's blood finally leaves his system. After a closer look at Nick's charts, the doctor gave consent for his release. At 11 o'clock on that weeknight, the administrator releases him and he returns home. "Where's Alfred?" he asks, looking around.

"I think he locked himself in a room somewhere."

"Well, if he comes out, yell for me. I'll be in the shower."

Nick retreats upstairs and into the nearest bathroom. Staring at the exhausted and wise canine face of his, he strips down his clothes and slowly steps into the shower.

The water pours from the spout, dispersing on Nick's head, and running down his back, chest, and legs. His fur droops under the exposure to the water. For a moment, he stares blankly at the white wall of the shower and quickly eliminates the thoughts attempting to penetrate his brain. After a short, strenuous mental struggle, he kneels on the shower floor and the thoughts penetrate his mind.

 _Why did this happen?_ The first thought makes him shake. He closes his eyes and stares at the blank shower floor in between his wet, naked knees. He opens his eyes again and tries to make out his own reflection in the opaque, wet floor.

 _Maybe I deserved to die._

This thought contains more fear than the previous. He clenches his fist, fingers shaking violently. After he clenches his fist the shaking rattles his upper arm. He subconsciously transfers his suffering paws to his face and groans lightly.

"Stop it!"

 _Who was that?_ Nick wonders, his hands falling naturally to the sides of his exposed body. _Was it me?_

"Did you hear me?"

The voice is angry. _Who was that?_ Nick wonders again, pushing from his knees and standing erect, the warm water bouncing from the top of his head and into his eyes. It takes a few seconds to recover before his thoughts return. The voice is still unrecognizable. He subconsciously pushes the temperature handle inward to shut off the shower, and the water ends suddenly. His ears now switch to surveyor mode as he prepares for the next line of dialogue from the unknown character.

"Can you please leave?"

 _I think I know._ Nick confirms with himself, stepping out, even though he had not bothered to cleanse himself in the shower. He surveys the room, and very desperate, grips the handle, barely realizing the lack of clothes on his body. He soon comes to realize the puddle he creates from his negligence of drying off.

Even though desperate enough to exit the bathroom without clothes, he prevents extensive awkwardness by quickly drying himself and throwing on the pile of clothes, oblivious to the poor drying job on his fur.

As soon as he steps out he soon begins realizing how wet his fur had become. _At least I'm wearing clothes..._ he walks to the top of the stairs and prepares for the descent. He walks down the stairs, Judy looking at Alfred crossly, pushing her finger into his chest. "I said, leave," she snaps.

Nick tramps over and pushes the two apart, giving a short stare at Judy, then pivoting his neck to gaze at Alfred. "What exactly is going on here?" Nick says. Judy focuses on the few beads of water sitting on Nick's snout.

She points at Alfred. "He said he doesn't want to leave."

"Sir," Nick flashes a police badge at him. "Sorry, what I meant to say, _Alfred Devney_!"

"What?" Alfred says, chuckling nervously. "That's not me. I'm a homeless guy."

"What's your last name?"

Alfred frowns. "I have the right to remain silent."

Nick holds his paws out, ripping a leather object from Alfred's pocket. He scavenges through it while Alfred angrily pleads for him to give it back. "Give me that wallet back. You don't even have authority to do that."

Nick whips out a paper. "Warrant," Nick shoves the wallet back at Alfred. Nick angrily shoves the perpetrator against the wall, whose snout points vertically up the wall. Nick shoves Alfred's legs apart, then Nick places his own paws on Alfred's back. He looks at Judy, making a hand gesture of cuffs. Judy nods, ambling out of the room and returning with a pair of metal cuffs. Nick retreats his paws and locks Alfred's paws behind his back.

Judy follows Nick and Alfred outside. After a few struggles, Nick shoves Alfred into the police cruiser. After turning onto the main road, Nick holds up a communicator to his mouth while Judy supervises the perpetrator. "Clawhauser! This is Wilde."

"Yes, Wilde. What is your 10-101?"

"10-26, Alfred Devney. 10-78 when I arrive at the base."

"I called in a few units despite what Hopps told me a while ago. They'll be here when you get here, Wilde. Chief is already here."

"Okay. ETA three minutes. 10-4."

"10-4."

After arriving at the station, the called in units, Nick, and the chief assist in the impudent struggle of properly jailing Alfred Devney. The police station officials had thanked Nick and even offered him money as a reward. Nick took it without a word and now is heading out the door.

Judy walks out with Nick to his car, and Judy catches his attention. "Nick?"

Nick looks back. "What, Carrots? Jump in and we'll talk."

Judy does so and Nick fires up the engine and turns onto the road. "So, what do you want?" he asks, not looking at her.

Judy pauses for a moment. "Um, I talked to Bogo when you left, about what you did."

Nick takes one hand off the steering wheel and waves it around. "And?"

"Bogo wants to talk to you about a reward."

"I thought I already got a reward," he says, keeping the car in the center lane. "Are you implying that there's some further reward?"

"Yes…"

"Carrots, it's two-thirty. In the morning."

"Chief didn't say that he'd give it to you right now. He's going home."

"Oh. So tomorrow would be the best bet, then?"

"I would assume so."

* * *

 **10:35 AM; Chief Bogo's Office**

Nick, seated on the wooden chair in front of the massive desk, looks up at the Chief, who also is sitting. Judy sits beside Nick, looking up at the Chief also. Bogo looks down on his employee, pawing at a thin, yellow folder. "Wilde."

Nick smiles excitedly as he considers his boss' face. "Yes, sir?"

He smiles, extremely unusual for his negative personality. "As stated in the news and through my own experience, I believe you were poisoned by and arrested Alfred Devney."

He nods. "Yes, that's right."

"Well, I now have reason to reward you," he pauses, opening a folder just in front of himself. He pauses again and closes the folder, standing from his chair. "I have brought you here to inform you that I will actually present you with your reward at the ceremony today. At the community park, in an hour."

Nick takes out his phone as he stands up. He looks to Judy. "It's 10:40 right now. How about we go grab some brunch?"

Judy walks out the door, following Nick. "Sure."

"Hi. I'll take your blueberry cream milkshake, and..." Nick trails off and furrows his eyebrows. "Just a second," he looks at Judy. "What did you want?" Nick slowly looks at the speaker of the "drive-thru" of the fast-food restaurant.

Judy smirks and shakes her head. "You really can't remember? I said I wanted the same thing."

Nick nods and turns around. "I guess that's it. Just two straws with that."

"Okay, drive up to the window," the mammal says through the speaker.

Judy looks at him. "You ordered two, right?"

Nick shrugs. "Maybe, maybe not. You'll see."

Judy chuckles as Nick pulls up to the window and pays, taking the drink from the tiger at the window. "Thank you."

The tiger smiles. "Have a nice day."

Nick hands the shake to Judy. "Here."

Judy furrows her eyebrows as she looks at the drink. "What's with the two straws?"

Nick chuckles. "C'mon, Carrots. You're the investigator, so if there are two straws and one drink, that equals..."

Judy smirks. "Sly fox," she takes a sip. "Pretty good, I'd say."

Nick reaches his hand over to Judy. "Let me have a sip."

Judy places it in his hand, and he puts it to his mouth and takes a sip, his one hand still at the wheel. "Delicious."

After arriving twelve minutes later at home, the two officers retreat to the dining table. "So," Judy says, pausing to take another sip of the milkshake. She sets the cup down and puts her hand on the dining table. "We got to get changed and get to the ceremony."

Nick opens his phone. "It's only 10:55."

Judy shrugs, taking the last sip. "It takes us 15 minutes to get there. And you take at least 10 to get changed."

Nick stands up. "Fine. But I almost reconsidered it since you drank most of the milkshake."

Judy laughs. "Let's go, Nick."

He heads up the stairs, walking into his room and slipping on his pants, and Judy knocks. "You ready?"

Nick slips on his shirt. "If I'm not out there, I'm not ready."

Nick walks over to the door, fastening his belt. He opens the door, and with his tie, still untied, draped over his shoulder. Judy holds her phone in one hand, already dressed. She looks up at him. "It's been eight minutes and you're still not dressed?"

Nick begins to tie his tie. "Yeah, so what?"

She sighs. "It means you're slow," she walks down the stairs. "C'mon."

"I'm coming, I'm coming," he says, slowly following suit.

Another ten minutes later, Nick sits upon a wooden stage, looking over an array of mammals seated in white, plastic chairs.

Chief Bogo puts his hands on the podium, addressing everyone that had come to the ceremony. "Today I would like to present the badge of bravery to our newest and first fox officer, Officer Nick Wilde," he hands it to Nick as he steps up to the podium. Applause echoes the park as Nick gazes over his audience.

"Hey, everyone," Nick says with a smile. "I really find this–" he studies the badge for a moment, "–badge of bravery quite impressive. I am glad that I had the opportunity – with my partner, Officer Hopps – to compromise one of the most dangerous people in Zootopia, and I really didn't think that I would earn a badge of bravery in return. And to say that this mission to capture Albert Devney wasn't easy. Especially with Judy interfering."

A few chuckles. After a few seconds, it tones down, allowing Nick to continue. "I was kidding, by the way," he says, another few chuckles interrupting his thoughts. "But to be serious, Judy was a real help back there. She demonstrated true trustworthiness to me during the entire ordeal. She stayed by me until I was better. In fact, I even treated us with a blueberry milkshake," another round of chuckles follows, and Nick smiles in response. "So, I thank everyone, including Judy, who contributed in helping me earn this award. Thank you, and good afternoon."

Quickly following the speech, Nick and Judy return home after a short lingering party. Judy closes the front door of the house, smiling as Nick strolls in front of her. She sits on the living room couch, looking at the blank television screen. Nick sits next to her, still dressed in his uniform. "Something wrong?"

She shakes her head. "No..." she pauses and frantically stands. "Nick."

Nick stands after her. "What?"

She nods, breathing heavily. "Did you realize that Alfred Devney, the mass murderer, stayed in our house?"

Nick shrugs. "So? I got him already. Don't worry."

Her face flushes. "What do you mean by so?" she says, pointing to the kitchen. "He tried to poison you, right? So that means, that there might be another potential hazard that may harm either of us? He could have trapped the entire house, for all I know!"


	8. Dad

**Chapter 8: Dad**

Nick admires himself in the mirror. His fur is parallel, flowing down the side of his head like a stop-motion waterfall. He removes his badge from his smooth blue uniform and blows on the golden badge, quickly shining it with his sleeve and returning the badge to its proper location. Subconsciously, his eyes dart to the bookshelf, where a plastic wrapper glistens in the room's light from the third and highest accessible shelf. He strolls over to it and discovers the fortune cookie from the prior night's agreement to eat out. That night, something had told him to keep it untouched – an intuition. He picks up the object and mauls it with both paws, and after several attempts of ripping the package open finally achieves the treat. He displays it in one paw, then cracks it open to reveal the small piece of paper. As his taste buds contemplate the dull-tasting, he scans over the small font lazily printed onto the thin slip.

 _Again?_ Nick ponders, crumpling the now useless piece of paper into a tiny ball and retreating it to his pants pocket. _The thing can't predict my future!_ Even though the fortune seems plausible, in retrospect, it is entirely too inauthentic to accept.

Shrugging off the useless fortune, Nick cracks open his bedroom door as the last couple crumbs make their way to his half-empty stomach. He prepares for his friend's presence in the hall, so he peeks out.

"Carrots?" Nick questions to the wall, quickly closing the door behind him as he steps into the empty hall. Deep down in his stomach, weight, like rocks dropping into his stomach, gives him a hint of uneasiness. Despite this uneasiness, he moves steadily down the stairs, his right paw running down the right handrail. With this same paw, he pivots on the lowest newel, at the foot of the staircase, and guides himself into the hall. He rushes to Judy's bedroom door and knocks. "Are you there, Carrots?"

No answer.

The weight in his stomach doubles. "Carrots?" he shouts, knocking hastily, placing his right ear on the body of the door. _What's up with her?_

Nothing.

He tests the doorknob, which turns and he lets it go. "I'm coming in, Judy. If you're changing, please stop me," he says, turning the doorknob again. He moves into the bedroom, prying open the door, slowly at first, and then swings it open after a few slow seconds.

Normally, a fully changed Judy would jump out from behind the king-size bed and scare him half to death. The only thing that jumps out now is Judy's absence. Replacing the bunny is her purple purse, laying down on the fluffy carpet. An ID card, a ten-dollar bill, and a stick of lipstick lay outside the opening of the handbag.

The weight in his stomach, already extreme, continues to enlarge. He kneels and examines the purse without touching it. "Someone was here," he says to himself, not thinking to call for backup.

Ten minutes later, Nick stops at a red light in front of the busiest intersection in Savannah Central. He looks up ahead through his windshield, trying to find someplace to retreat to allow himself to activate his sirens. _Turning on my sirens would cause chaos._ He assures himself, prohibiting himself to turn on his lights. Cars line up to continue across the intersecting road. The cars wait patiently, but unlike the cars, some drivers are not as patient. Some drivers pass the lingering time by quickly replying to that text from Grandma, applying yet another layer of lip balm, or taking a bite of a breakfast burrito from the local fast food joint. Other mammals proofread their memos for the day ahead, and others entertain themselves by breaking the ice with the person in the passenger's seat. The isolated drivers with nothing to do simply stare at the red light and patiently anticipate the change.

Nick, however, sits impatiently, the casual waiting removed from his priorities. Frustrated and afraid, he rapidly taps his fingers on the dashboard and rubs his forehead. He whips away the incoming tears and with a sigh of relief, the cars begin to continue through the intersection. As they do so, he turns on his sirens, and slowly, the cluster of traffic moves aside as he starts to speed the vehicle along. Nearing a hundred miles an hour, he just passes a yellow light and runs two reds – legally, of course. As he passes the second red light, he picks up his communicator. "Base, Wilde. I have an issue with Hopps."

Nothing.

"Base! Do you copy?"

Nothing, again.

Nick slams the communicator down into its proper place, then continues as he veers into the parking lot of the ZPD. He stops directly in front of the establishment, jumps out of the vehicle, keys in hand, and rushes in the door of the Zootopia Police Department. His urgency and red eyes attract Clawhauser, who sits with his nose in the morning's newspaper. "Nick! What's wrong?" He realizes the situation when Nick attempts to speak with exasperating gulps of air. Nick places his arm on the counter and finally catches his breath. "Is Judy here?" he gulps. "She wasn't at home. I tried calling in, but nobody responded," he says, taking a couple exhausted breaths before glancing down at his feet.

He shakes his head. "Not that I've seen," he handles the paper in his left paw, shakes it rapidly, and unfolds the folded portions of the paper with his right paw. "Is that an issue?"

"Yeah," Nick manages, his breath finally reverting to normal. "I woke up and couldn't find her. I thought she already went to work, but as you said, she's not here."

"I'd help you if I could," he bites his donut. "But I'm not fit to do that stuff. I just talk to people and refer them to the proper locations," he glances up at the blue, translucent door on the second floor overlooking the balcony. "I'll see if the Chief can help you," he says, pressing the red button on the wired landline. He speaks into the wired phone. "Yes... no, not her. Yes, it's Wilde. He says Judy's gone... yeah, thanks," he places the phone back into its holder and smiles ear-to-ear at his disappointed partner. "He says it's okay."

"Thanks for the help anyway," he has a clear disappointment in his voice. "I guess I better head off. Thanks for the help," he says, urgently strolling away, taking the steps two at a time up the stairs before Chief Bogo's office becomes visible. He turns a corner and arrives in front of the large door, knocking lightly on it with his knuckles facing it. After a moment, the handle outside the door turns, and the opening of the door yields Bogo's office.

Silently, Chief Bogo sits in his chair and motions to the wooden chair facing his desk. Nick takes a seat in it without delay. "Well, Wilde," he looks at him with a stern frown. "Is Hopps gone, or are you trying to waste your shift?"

"The former, sir," Nick replies, fighting to smile. "She really is gone."

"If she really is gone, tell me what happened."

A long story proceeds. When Nick finishes, Bogo fumbles his fingers - which are weaved in between one another - on the desk. The cold frown plastered on his face remains. "Go to roll call. I will prepare you for the investigation."

Nick nods and strolls from the room, dawdling down the stairs before arriving at the door of the large roll call room. The lingering scent of coffee lingers in the large room, filled with mammals of different sizes. Nick's eyes watch the small clock above the entrance, watching the little red hand make its way to the "12." As soon as the hand finishes its journey, Bogo opens the door at the anterior side of the room and raises his head as the red hand passes the "3."

"Quiet!" he yells, staring at the chattering mammals. He drops his clipboard onto the podium while a nimbus of silence encompasses the room. "We have recently received police report that Officer Hopps mysteriously disappeared a short while ago," he says, tracing his enormous finger on the clipboard and donning his glasses with his opposite paw. "According to Officer Wilde, Hopps left a variety of objects in her place of stay, and the objects in question appeared unorganized and strewn about the small portion of the room. From this moment on, this case has been officially labeled as a kidnapping until further notice."

Nervous chatter erupts and quiets after Bogo growls. "Furthermore, this case is number one priority. Officers Wilde, Wolfard, and Fangmeyer, go to the site, stabilize it, and investigate as necessary. Everyone else, regular. Dismissed."

The room remains still until the door, where Chief Bogo had exited, closes with a snap. The chatter begins again and mammals begin filing from the room, turning to one another in conversation. Nick slogs from the same door, then is isolated as the crowd of mammals dissipate. Fangmeyer watches Nick, standing alone in front of the door. "Wilde. You coming?"

"What? Oh, yeah. Just a sec," he replies, matching Fangmeyer and Wolfard's casual pace out the door.

"Push the emotions back, Wilde," Fangmeyer says from the driver's seat of the car, glancing in the rearview mirror. He pushes on the brake as they approach a red light. "We've got a case to crack."

Nick nods, rubbing his eyes. "You wouldn't understand," he says, taking in an oral breath, and exhaling quickly.

"I do," Wolfard begins, not facing Nick. "My father passed when I was 12."

Fangmeyer again glances into the rearview mirror. "I lost my best friend from high school when I was 15. Have you heard of the Greenview Shooting of 1989? He was one of fourteen victims."

"Well, I guess you both understand, don't you?" he takes another breath and looks out the window as they turn onto his street.

Fangmeyer pulls over at the house. "We're here."

Nick climbs out of the car and walks toward the house, and the three enter under Nick's ushering. He leads them to Judy's room, where the evidence from earlier remains. Nick handles Judy's small case with gloved paws, transferring it to the wolf officer's gloved paws. Wolfard silently nods, placing it into a specimen bag. Meanwhile, Fangmeyer secures the area outside the house and in front of Judy's room.

Wolfard breaks a two-minute period of silence. "Hey, look," he says, holding up a black tie, draping it over the top of his gloved index finger.

Nick looks over at Wolfard. "Looks like she was probably planning on wearing formal dress."

He nods. "That's not all of it," he points at a stack of neatly folded clothes. "Looks like she disappeared before she had a chance to dress in uniform."

After a few minutes of searching, the three come up with the neatly folded police uniform, the black tie, the ID, the empty case, a plastic glove, and a quite surprising find - a bag of white powder.

The three officers return to the police station. They deliver the evidence for examination and gravitate toward the break room. Once inside, Wolfard and Fangmeyer begin a game of ping-pong with one another. Nick dismisses the friendly invitation to play and instead resorts to the small chair in the corner of the room. He digs into his pocket and produces his mobile phone, groaning as a picture of a battery with a red line on the bottom of it appears on the screen. He returns his phone and watches the uninteresting game.

Wolfard immediately notices this and holds up his paw to Fangmeyer. "Are you okay, Wilde?" As Fangmeyer hits the ball back, Wolfard catches the ball with one paw, then looks back at Nick.

Nick barely shrugs and rubs his closed eyelids with his paws. "I don't know. I can't admit that she's gone."

Fangmeyer strolls over to him, bends down, and gazes into his eyes. "Hey," Nick looks up. "Remember when I told you about the Greenview Shooting of 1989?"

Nick nods in response. "Yeah."

"Well - I don't know how else I can word this," he pauses. "I went to that high school. I experienced the terror and fright through the moments - seeming like hours - of the shooter trying to kill us all."

Nick shakes his head. "Okay?"

He sighs. "The point is, I was the one who stood up for the entire school. Along with my friend. Long story short, the shooter only had one bullet left, and my friend decided to be the one standing in front."

He looks Nick in the eyes, putting his hand on his shoulder. "I am not only assuring you, but I am _promising_ you that Officer Hopps will be back. And when I promise..." he looks at Wolfard.

"He never, ever breaks it," Wolfard finishes.

Fangmeyer stands up. "Can you trust me?"

Nick nods. "Okay."

"How about we get a snack from the cafe? My treat."

Nick follows Fangmeyer to the cafe in about a minute when Clawhauser walks up. "That white powder..." he coughs in between exasperating breaths.

Nick looks at his overweight friend. "What?" he asks questioningly.

"Remember that white powder you found at the crime scene?"

Nick nods. "Yeah."

"The lab tested it, and it was benzocaine powder. Y'know, the stuff that the dentist uses to prepare you for the oral shot? That stuff."

Nick curls his hands into fists. "Whoever did this to Judy is going to pay."

"Ah," Clawhauser scribbles onto a notepad, handing it to Nick. "Through our effort, we found security footage of a strange, masked mammal dragging Judy out of the house. We did get the license number for the car. It's on that notepad."

Nick looks down at the notepad. "I don't want to go through all the work of filing the license number. I'll go to the DMV and get it done."

Nick gives a short smile to the front of the DMV as he walks into the normally busy Department of Mammal Vehicles, which demonstrates its lack of idleness as Nick walks up to Flash, who sits in front of the counter labeled "COUNTER CLOSED." "Flash, flash, 100-yard dash!" Nick chants, looking at him, his face falling into a frown. "I'm in a hurry to get this done - and it does seem strange - but I actually don't have time to do th–"

"Goood - morning, Niiick," he responds, "whaat - can I do - for you - today?" Flash speaks in his normal, very slow voice.

Nick smiles. "I need another license number done."

"Okaay. What's - thuhh - playyt - nummmber?"

"Five, nine, T, G, C, nine, four."

Flash types in each number, chanting it out loud as he does so. Nick remains quiet, waiting for the job to be done. Finally, Flash rips off the sheet and hands it to his customer. "Here - you go."

Nick scans the sheet. "It's registered to 1955 Cypress Grove Lane," he reaches his hand over his chest. "This isn't happening."

Nick taps his fingers on the steering wheel, turning into Cypress Grove Lane. He stops at the all too familiar house, fearing for his life, afraid of what happened to Judy. The fear turns to anger as he walks up to the front door of the old house and bangs on it.

It stays there for a moment before the lock clicks and the door swings open, and a male fox, wearing a black hoodie and blue jeans, is hovering in the doorway. He is slightly shorter than Nick, and Nick takes advantage of this and considers his eyes, pure fury blasting through his eyes. "Where's Judy?" Nick snaps, a sharp, urgent tone in his voice.

The fox that opened the door looks at Nick, slowly examining his face. "Son?"

Nick scoffs, his eyes rolling. "Stop with the jokes, John. I'm a Zootopian Police Officer, and if you did something to Judy, I'm gonna beat the living daylight out of you. Now, get me the hostage."

John slowly raises his hand. "Stay calm, Nick. Your friend is completely fine, and she's resting modestly."

Nick forms his hand into a fist. "Where is she, then?" he says, silently threatening to pick up his communicator and call for backup.

"How about we play a little game?" he says, smiling. "You have thirty," he pauses, reevaluating his choice. "No, fifteen minutes to find her. You can go anywhere you'd like in the house, but as soon as you leave the boundaries of the lot, or your time is out," he considers Nick's eyes. "You will leave and never return."

He rolls his eyes. "But what if I don't want to play this little game of yours? Is there any other way? Heck, I'll pay you and go bankrupt to get her back!"

John shakes his head. "Either you play this little game, or," he pulls out a pistol and aims it at him. "You'll have to suffer this other way," he puts the gun back on his belt. "Or you can leave. It's your choice."

Nick pauses, his brain evaluating the choices. "Fine," he holds out his hand. "But if you do anything..." he motions to his communicator. "I don't have my toys anymore, John. These things here can communicate for miles. There are enough safety mechanisms on here to confuse the most experienced hackers."

John hesitates for a moment, ignoring the previous comment. He eventually clasps his paw to his son's. "Deal."

"Remember, 15 minutes," John says, holding up a stopwatch. "Go!"

Nick rushes up the stairs, looking through cabinets, closets, and bathrooms for Judy. He looks through the bedroom, and a faint scream from under the bed catches his ear. He silently tracks the sound with his ears and singles out the location of the sound. He quickly ducks under the bed and sighs, sighing as he holds up a tape recorder playing quiet weeps and faint yells. He looks through the other rooms, turning up empty. The fifteen minutes pass like no time whatsoever. He rushes down the staircase, and there, right in front of him, is John, holding a pistol in his right hand, pressing up against the head of his friend, the one who he had trusted since the beginning, the most loyal and trustworthy one he could have ever had. "Time's up."

The horror rushes down his spine, quickly substituting with anger as he instinctively pulls out his own pistol, which he had not practiced with very much, and the recoil of the firearm would shoot him to outer space. But it is the only one he carries. "I'm telling you, John, you've made the wrong choice. Imagine what you'd have to go through to forgive me. I'd never forgive you if you do this. And this isn't what you said. I thought you taught me about loyalty as a kid."

He shrugs. "She's your best friend, so what. I don't care, she's not mine. We're angry at you for choosing to have her as a friend and not informing us about it. There is really no other way. You both seem so close that there would be no other way except–"

"If I cut off the relationship?"

John looks at his son. "You don't make decisions from a drop of a hat."

"I do if I'm desperate enough. Tell you what - you let her go, and I'll cut it off."

John leaves the gun against the rabbit. Slowly, his finger eases away from the trigger and lays beside it. He drops the weapon to his side and quickly shoves Judy away from him. Nick grasps her shoulder and wraps his arm around her chest. "You know what's interesting?"

John looks up. "Shoot."

"How interesting the English language is," he hugs Judy tightly. "You see, I said I'd cut our relationship off. I didn't say _when_ I'd do it."

John's eyes widen, and his eyebrows curl into the familiar anger. "I knew you'd do that!"

"Hey, it's–" he says, his speech stopping as soon as John places the barrel of his pistol on the tip of Nick's nose.

"Now I got you," John declares, holding the gun firmly in his paw.

Judy looks up at her friend, surprised at the quick rising of the situation. She glances down at her feet, where her and Nick's look toward each other. She leans her head against his abdomen and utters a barely intelligible phrase.

"I love you, Nick."

She lies her head on his stomach. An icy chill travels up his spine and meets at his neck. He can feel his fur stand on end. His breathing slows significantly and he closes his eyes. He glances at what he knows is his father's general vicinity and utters his supposed final words: "Time and eternity, I know I'll see you. Don't try and catch up; it's our timing that counts. Don't end it because you feel angry; don't try to end others because of your mistakes. Life is precious; don't take it away."

John's hands begin to shake. He blinks and his breathing escalates, then he drops his weapon to the ground with a clatter. " _Don't end it_ by The Stars. Your favorite song."

Nick nods calmly and walks up to his father. He moves John's arm. "I want to show you a magic trick," Nick says kindly directing John's head away from Judy. "Stay still, or the magic won't work," he looks over John's shoulder, whispering a phrase into his ear, and quickly returns to look him in the eyes. "What I need you to do is slowly twist your head to face her."

He does so, and Judy faces the opposite direction of what she was before. Nick looks at his father. "She's all yours," he says, moving his hand across John's face, and he drops to the floor like a sack of potatoes.

Judy stares at John, her eyes widening. "How'd you do that?"

Nick ignores Judy's question and picks up his communicator. Within seconds he sets it back in the holster and looks at his unconscious father. "Sorry I had to do that, Dad, but the law is the law."

Ten minutes and a revival later a squad of policemammals enter the house and drag John from the house.

"Sir, you are under arrest for suspected kidnapping, attempting homicide, and threatening and resisting law enforcement," the police officer says as she forcefully leads John into the police cruiser.

Judy stares at the car, thinking. Thinking about how things could have changed if Nick didn't do... whatever that was. She ponders about the words she said to him, the moments she assumed would be her last to see him.

Nick slowly walks over to the bunny, staring into her violet eyes. "Hey," he greets. Deep in his chest, a feeling sparks. One of hope - and another of relief. Staring at her perfectly formed face ignites the feeling inside him. _She's cute_ , he admits to himself, again glancing at her. _She really is._ For some reason, he wants to pull her into a hug and celebrate her release. All he does is manage a smile and look at her. _What should I say?_

Normally, his articulateness would permit the perfect words to flow from his mouth and lighten the situation. But now, his sense of speaking of sweat form on his forehead under the silence placed upon them. Finally, he manages a sentence. The words seem to flow out of his mouth subconsciously as if he never says anything. "I just wanted to say something about what you said back there," he pauses. "I- I love you too," he manages, his face warming and he takes a big breath of relief.

She absorbs the moment, her legs feeling like jelly. She attempts to move, but her legs refuse to budge. Finally, her face floods red as if delayed. "Um... thanks," she looks at him, and his firm stature and confident pose impresses her. _He's handsome_ , she admits to herself. _He really is._

Nick leans over to her, planting his lips onto her cheek. Her face flushes even more red, like a tomato. Her legs turn to liquid, and she falls into the grass, unable to process what had just happened.

"Carrots?" he says, eyes widening with confusion as he stares down at his friend, lying on the grass. "Are you okay?"

She shrugs, giggling. "I don't know. I can't process information now."

He sighs and scoops her off the grass, planting her on her feet. She looks back up at him, astonishment in her eyes. "Do you mind picking me up again?"


	9. Wallet

**Chapter 9: Wallet**

When one focuses on the quiet, dark portions of Zootopia, many mammals ease away from them. And frankly, anything can happen - robberies, theft, or murder. Any stir of sound can startle the toughest of mammals. And on one of these nights, Nick walks within these frightening streets. He stuffs his hands into his pockets, and he silently admits his fear to himself. _It's okay to be afraid,_ he rationalizes, _it's completely okay. They won't hurt me... besides, the theft rate is low, isn't it?_

His rationalizations help somewhat, but he still fears for his life. Even though being a current, trained law enforcement officer, he still cannot overcome this specific fear. As a child, his parents or siblings obliged him to collect a certain toy or item from the upstairs bedroom, in which the light often malfunctioned. He would see shadows, and he would return downstairs as if nothing had happened. But occasionally he would curl up in his bed, sheets half covering his childish body, and silently weep to himself over his constant, urging fear.

He had long ago removed that house from his life, but the fear did not leave. It nagged at him every day of his life when he would walk into his dark bedroom, even as he reached adulthood. When he applied for the Zootopia Police Department, and an administrator interviewed him, asking for any fears. He lied and confidently informed them that he was fearless.

Big mistake. Now, those fears become stronger and stronger every minute in this creeping alley. With his car all the way across the block and an isolated Judy at home, he knows he must get home or he might as well curl up next to a stop sign and die. So, he confidently, but slowly, strolls up to the first alleyway. _Here we go. First out of two._ He slows his pace and looks forward. The first is a success, but he gives no celebration. He continues to pace past the second, faster than before, but not too fast to attract attention.

But he makes a mistake by succumbing to the urge to peer into the darkness. The temptation comes as almost enticing: _hey, it's not bad for you to do that. Besides, who cares about you? Nobody does! Just look in there for a second and get out of there._

And yet another big mistake.

One of his own species, showing off an expensive leather jacket covering a simple black shirt, chainlike gold ropes hanging from his waist, and simple jeans, emerges from the darkness. His face curves into a formation that seems so foreign, so angry _. Why'd he approach me?_ Nick asks himself, glancing again into the menacing eyes of the fox. Pretending not to notice his existence, Nick calmly strolls off.

After a moment, the figure speaks up. Nick now finishes three feet of walking. "Do you have any money?" His voice holds memories of yelling and injuring.

"Yes, I do, but it's not for you," Nick replies sternly, preparing to see himself off.

The menace quickly launches his paw forward and takes hold on Nick's shoulder. "Give it to me. Unless you want to feel what a real punch feels like," he threatens, curving his right paw into a fist and slowly tapping his open left with it. He slowly looms over Nick.

Nick nods quickly and pulls his wallet from his pocket, weaving it into his left hand. "Alright, here."

"Well?" the felon asks, slowly lurching toward him. "Give it to me."

Nodding, Nick extends his left hand, and the robber snatches it from his grasp. Nick closes his eyes, exhaling slowly. "Looks like you've made the right choice," the robber replies as he backs up, then turns and escapes from the victim's sight.

Nick glimpses at the robber for a moment, waiting. Waiting for something, a miracle, to happen. Nothing. He smiles wearily at himself and walks until he makes it to his car. As he enters the driver's side door, he wearily questions his tactics in removing the robber from his sight. Nick doesn't care if he lost his ID. He doesn't care that his entire wallet is gone. He fires up the engine and carefully maneuvers the car from the parking space, then drives off.

Memories come back to him occasionally throughout the drive. One moment, he focuses on the lyrics of "Can't Stop the Howling" by Justin Timberwolf, but the memories of the incident interrupt and send a chill down his spine. _What if I hadn't given my wallet to him? Would I still be okay if I didn't?_

Finally, after what seems like hours his house comes into view. He pulls it into park and steps up on the front porch and pulls open the door. The lights illuminate everything around him, his eyes nearly shut from the brightness. He accustoms to it and lets himself in. He looks across the room to look for Judy, who sits at the dining table. It surprises him to see that she did not notice him come in.

He walks over to her and taps her on the head. She jumps and looks back. A grin spreads across her face and she jumps into him. "Nick," she whispers, nuzzling his neck. He does nothing but stand and embrace the comfort of the rabbit almost pulling him to the floor. Eventually, she slowly lets herself off by grasping his shirt to break her fall. He looks down at the floor, his hands dug in his pockets, his foot digging into the tile. "Judy," he says, words coarse and blank.

She looks at him, her ears dropping to her back. _Something's wrong with him._ She ponders, _and I don't know what to do._

They stand in silence for a moment, and she puts her hand on his back. "I'm here for you, Nick. You are a great friend. Please tell me what happened. You got here half an hour later than you said."

His gaze slowly shifts to her feet, but he doesn't look up. "Some guy robbed me on the street."

Her eyes slowly widen, but she too doesn't look up. "So, he took your wallet?"

He holds up his phone. "Just the wallet. But I did have some valuables in there. Anyway, Carrots, I think I should really hit the sack," he says, pausing, turning around, and lugging himself up the stairs.

About halfway up, Judy speaks. "Well, goodnight then."

He chuckles lightly. "Bye now, Carrots."

His eyes snap open, hammer open, and look up at the ceiling. His mind is completely blank. Moments pass and everything from the previous day replace the emptiness of his brain. He sighs, pivots to the side, and pulls on sweatpants and a black shirt. He walks from his room and enters the adjacent bathroom. The eyes he ponders in the mirror seem used and scared. He subconsciously loosens the clothing on his waist with his fingers and slowly strips them from his body. It leaves him staring at himself with a black shirt and a bare waist. He sighs and brings his hands up into his shirt and pulls it up over his head, then lets it drop to the floor. He maneuvers himself over to the shower and slowly turns it on, and after multiple temperature checks, steps into it.

Minutes later he leaves the shower and dries himself as quickly as possible. He pulls on his clothing, then looks at his dressed body. Sighing, he gathers his used clothes and drops them into the adjacent room, then travels downstairs for breakfast.

Judy stands behind a pan, which creates an insignificant amount of visible gases. She looks at him, smiling. "Good morning, Mr. Stylish," she says, laughing at the sudden nickname she gave him. He chuckles, finds an adjacent seat at the table, and focuses on her cooking techniques.

After a few minutes, she returns to the table and sits down next to him, setting a plate of eggs in front of him and herself. He nods and sets his phone face down on the table, then proceeds to take a bite of the egg. "I thought you were vegan or something," he says in between bites of egg.

She shakes her head. "I'm vegetarian, or as we call it, herbivore, but we still eat dairy and eggs. They're protein, not meat."

"Speaking of dairy, since you brought it up," he holds up his fork. "They raised the price of milk again. Just saw it in the grocery ad."

She sighs as she takes a bite. "How much?"

He looks at his fork. "Ten bucks a gallon. Can you believe it? They have better prices on deserted islands."

She rolls her eyes. _Really, Nick? Could you go easy on the jokes?_ "Wow. That's higher than last month. It's nearly doubled."

He nods. "Yeah. I read that only sixty-four percent of cows donate, and only ten percent of those donate daily. So, this time, we actually _do_ have a reason to cry over spilled milk."

She nods. "Hey, I never _did_ realize that. Well, I don't cry that often, so could we say become _frustrated_ over spilled milk."

He smiles. "In either case, we'd be in a 'dairy' bad situation."

She laughs. "And there's another one of Nick's world's lamest jokes."

When the conversations become uninteresting, Nick stands from the table and dismisses himself; Judy does the same following cleaning. Dressing follows, and the two dressed law enforcement officers arrive at the Zootopia Police Department just two minutes shy of roll call time.

"Good morning, Clawhauser," Nick greets, shoving his hands into his pockets and waiting for Judy to greet the obese cheetah.

Clawhauser gently leans over the counter, using his paws as support. "Chief just told me that he wants to see you in his office now."

Worriedly, Nick arrives at the front of Chief Bogo's office and looks to his partner. "Stay here, Carrots," Nick mutters as he pushes the door open to Bogo's room. He walks over to the desk and sits in the enormous chair.

Bogo stares down at the small officer but barely moves. He remains, staring patiently at the small fox. Finally, the water buffalo moves, slowly, placing his hand on the table. He lifts it and reveals a small leather object slightly larger than the palm of Nick's hand. Nick doesn't recognize it at first, but after studying it for a moment in silence he finally makes it out.

His wallet.

Bogo speaks before Nick even has a chance to take it. "How exactly did this happen, Wilde?"

Nick stares at the chief with bewilderment. "What do you mean? I didn't do anything."

He shakes his head. His forehead seems to throb, like the veins within it are about to pop right out of flesh encompassing his skull. "You did something, Wilde. Otherwise this valuable of yours would still be with you."

This puzzles Nick so much he cannot think. He sits for a moment, trying to process the moments when the incident occurred - as if tiny, ingenious people inside his brain are scribbling down math problems and discussing situations for Bogo's statement. Finally, he shakes his head. "Sorry, sir. I can't confirm that."

Bogo pushes the wallet to the side. "Wilde, I brought you here because, quite frankly, Hopps really wanted you on the team. Before you even applied to the force, she'd always make comments about you in roll call to everybody. Nobody took note at first, but as the talking progressed, I started to understand something about you."

Nick nods. "What exactly, sir?"

"Well, she'd always say that you were a funny guy. I like that about you. Something else she mentioned almost made me rethink hiring you. She said you used to rip off mammals and earn money from it. She also mentioned that you were a slow learner, and that pushed me to the breaking point. Nevertheless, you're the last person I'd expect a robber to thieve. There is a clearer way to rid of a robber other than giving him your full wallet."

Nick starts to object. "Well, sir–"

Bogo raises his finger in the air. "But, we are here to make mistakes, so as early as possible, go buy another wallet and put a few dollar bills in it, in case a robber thieves you again," he holds up Nick's wallet and hands it to him. "Meet in roll call in twenty minutes," Bogo says, walking from the room.

The office is now empty. Nick scans the room and looks down at his palm, the large leather object now balancing on it. _How did he get it?_ Nick asks himself. _This makes no sense! The guy ran away. There was nobody there last night._ Nick slowly stands and walks out, where Judy leans on the railing looking out to the main lobby.

He walks slowly up to her and gently rubs her ear between his paw. She smiles but doesn't look up at him. Moments pass and the same motions continue. Finally, he returns his hand to his side, and Judy looks up in disappointment. "You're done already?"

He shrugs. "I don't get any benefit from doing that," he replies briefly. "There's no use for it. I thought you needed a little cheering up."

She stares at him, her eyes glittering in eagerness. The emotion seems to fade, but her smile remains. "Um," she feels her cheeks redden beneath her fur. "Do you mind if I rub your ears? I mean, you did it for a while there, so..." she says, words apprehensive and brusque, twisting in odd ways.

He lightly strokes his chin with his finger. "Sure, why not?"

A wide grin spreads across her face, and she squeals. She jumps onto his stomach and reaches up to his head where his ears lay, and she repeats the same stroking pattern with her hand.

Thoughts race through his mind. First awkward, frivolous thoughts: _What did I do? What is my problem? I really don't know - but what if someone finds us?_ After a moment, he accustoms to the feeling and excitement results. But as he lay on the ground allowing Judy to stroke his ear, frivolous, nonsensical thoughts start to rage yet again. He recognizes previous thoughts that raged. _What is going to happen when someone finds us? Why did I let Judy do this? What exactly am I doing?_

Eventually, these thoughts dissipate and he continues to allow her to massage his ear. After a time, after plenty of laughs and quiet moments, a firm, rude growl explodes from a part of the hall. The tickling and massaging stops, and both officers glance up at the source. Chief Bogo, towering over the pair, lets out another growl and firmly grinds his teeth. "Office," he shouts, pointing to the previously mentioned location. "Both of you!"

Moments later, Nick and Judy sit and Bogo seats himself. He alternates his angry gaze from the first to the second troublesome officers. "I understand I witnessed inappropriate behavior outside my office. Is this correct?"

Both the officers pause to exchange glances, but as if speaking with telepathy and desiring to end the meeting short, nod harmoniously. Chief Bogo's face remains the same but conveys an even deeper anger. "That behavior is completely unnecessary. Both of your jobs are to watch over one another and this community, unnecessarily effleuraging one another. The law enforcement guidebook obliges you to reserve that for other situations. Nevertheless, I required you to arrive twenty minutes after I released Officer Wilde from my meeting with him. It has been nearly twenty-five. If I see another case of insubordination from you two," he stands and opens the door. "You will see the consequences. Now, let us go to roll call before I deduct both your paychecks."

The thought of losing money seems like a life or death situation to Nick. He quickly rushes from the room, and Judy barely keeps up. Back behind, Chief Bogo smiles at the now pleasant obedience of his two best officers.

Now in the roll call room, a voice scatters throughout it. "Quiet," Bogo yells at the group. They quiet and quickly turn their focus toward the instructor. "I find it pleasing to find that you comply with my instruction. Anyway, we have no serious issues, but we did have a minor theft to one of our officers - who shall remain unnamed," he eyes the officer in question. "All of you but Wilde and Hopps return to your previous assignments. If you forgot, consult with me in five minutes. Dismissed."

After all the officers file from the room, Bogo pulls the two officers to the side and look them sternly in the eyes as he grasps the door handle and dons his small glasses. "Wilde, Hopps, you both are to patrol Savannah Central, full day shift," he shoots out his index finger and hovers it over them. "Absolutely _no_ romantic or inappropriate interaction between you two on shift. Hopefully I have emphasized this enough. I see this again on shift and you will be severely prosecuted."

"Just to clarify," Judy says to her partner as she heaves the glass door at the front of the ZPD. She gently gestures inside with her head. "Do you need to use the bathroom? I do not want any 'inappropriate interaction' when you complain about-"

He chuckles. "Carrots, stop - just stop, okay? I stopped the diuretics two weeks ago. I'm back to normal. I can actually hold my bladder longer than ten minutes at a time."

"Just being helpful," she steps onto the asphalt of the parking lot. "Considering an eight-hour shift ahead of us," she continues forward and enters the police cruiser, using the steering wheel as support as she heaves herself onto the seat. She waits for his entrance and then starts the engine.

Now after considerable time on the street, Nick places his paw on the dashboard and stares out the window in boredom. "Carrots, we've gone down this street _at least_ three times and drove through this city for two hours. Should we just message Bogo and get something else?"

"Nick, you remember what he said, right? _Full_ shift?"

"I know, Carrots. But wouldn't you consider this probable cause for a shift change? I mean, I'm watching you retake your driver's exam."

"Oh, shut up," she smiles.

Judy looks up at him when Nick taps her head. "I would consider that inappropriate interaction," Judy acknowledges. "How about I turn it on live speaker so Bogo can witness it for himself?" she says, threatening to turn it on by reaching her paw forward.

"Alright, I'll stop. But can you at least turn the radio on?" He looks forward haphazardly and leans back as much as he is capable. Suddenly, a huge, explosive sound replaces the quiet music playing on the radio. He looks at the radio, but nothing seems problematic.

"Uh, Nick?" Judy says frantically.

"What?"

"DUCK!"

A large stone, close to a foot in diameter, hurdles towards the bullet-resistant windshield of the large SUV. Instantly, the shield explodes, hurling glass shards into the small cabin. Remarkably, the rock whizzes right between the two front seats and hits the back seat, inches away from harming either officer. Judy manages to slow the car to ten miles an hour, looking at her friend. He wearily holds his arm up and points ahead of him. Judy fails to notice the pole ahead of them. Even though traveling at a slow speed, the impact sets off a series of reactions. The airbag on the passenger's side explodes and smashes into Nick's awkward pose in his seat, and hits him forcefully in the head. His head, which previously laid comfortably on the seat, now hangs over his body, and his neck allows a two-inch gap from his chin to his chest. Judy quickly notices and she instinctively reaches out to support his head. She sighs with relief to find his neck straight and rigid, meaning his neck is unharmed. She leans over to him, placing her two fingers on his throat, checking for life.

Her hope rises as she feels a weak pulse in his jugular vein. She moans and looks ahead, finally realizing the busy sounds emitting from the communicator, barely functioning. She picks it up and holds it to her mouth. "This is Hopps, Savannah Central Patrol, unit 23, over. We have an issue."

No response.

She repeats the same phrase, and another officer replies. "Fangmeyer, Savannah Central Patrol, Unit 4, over. State your issue."

"We have experienced a critical collision with a large projectile. Officer Wilde is unconscious, seems stable. Send help."

"10-4. Additional units, report. Unit 23, state your location."

Silence.

Fangmeyer tries again. "Unit 23! We need your location, over. Do you copy?"

More silence.

"Unit 23, state your location, over."

A reply is no longer possible because, in the small street in the demolished Unit 23 police SUV, Nick Wilde lay unconscious next to her friend, who had no time to protect herself from the incoming, delaying reaction of the airbag. She now lay unconscious, oblivious to the frantic questions and statements emitting from the nearby communicator.


	10. Miracle

**Chapter 10 - Miracle**

She wakes, her heart pounding out of her chest. Perspiration drips down her forehead. She rubs her back and neck, realizing her awkward sleeping position. It had been an hour since Nick had admitted himself to the hospital, and the doctor had not come out to discuss the diagnosis. _He's dead already,_ she worries, _and it's all my fault._

All she recovered from the accident, physiologically, was a mild concussion. Psychologically, a much different story: the memory of watching his closed eyes, the memory of the EMTs reviving him in the ambulance. The horrific memory of nearly ten minutes of an absence of any heartbeat within him. She had watched the medical specialists rush him into the emergency room, shouting about him having something called v-fib.

She put her head in her hands, her ears dropping over the front. She remains for a moment, the terror crippling her. She is unable to handle it and did not want to figure out or know what was wrong with him. She just wishes that there would be nothing wrong. _And that is entirely possible,_ she reassures herself, head still in her hands.

"Ms. Hopps?" A deep, concerned voice interrupts her thoughts.

She glances up to a male fox wearing a pair of black pants, a white lab coat and a white gown underneath. "We've got the results."

Judy shoots up from her chair, her eyes bloodshot from bouts of crying. "How is he?"

The doctor takes a breath. "Ma'am, your friend, after being knocked out by the airbag received a dramatic blow to the head, just like you did. But unfortunately, his condition is much more serious... ma'am, he has a cerebral hemorrhage."

She is unable to know what it meant, can feel how terrible it is. She knows that it could kill him. But the lack of medical training prohibits this action. _What does that mean?_

As if the doctor communicates telepathically, he quickly explains the meaning. "The blow caused a rupture of a blood vessel in the most vital portion of the brain."

She remains silent for a moment to ponder the severity of his condition. After a moment, she asks the only question she knows possible: "Is there any treatment?" she says, tears flowing into her eyes.

The doctor sighs, shaking his head. "I am very sorry, but, no safe options are available, besides hoping it clears up. Surgery is available to attempt to correct it, but in this case, the chances of him having permanent brain damage are inevitable. It would take a miracle to save him."

She nods. "Can I go see him?"

She slowly opens the door, looking into the room. A respirator covers his snout and a neck support hugs his neck. He appears more like a robot than a living mammal. Next to him was a screen showing all the vitals, and a bandage covers his leg to suffice as a healing mechanism for bruising. His eyes have closed, and his chest extends and lowers constantly. She again glances up at his head. _I can't believe there's that much bleeding in there. He looks normal._

He looks horrible, and in so much pain. She touches under his eyelid, and the fur is damp. _He's crying too,_ she realizes, _and I know he's crying because he doesn't want to die. I feel the same way._

 _Suffering is too much. I just want to help him. He's so helpless. We're both suffering. I wish I could help him. I just want to do something that helps him so we can walk home. He can't die now._

She walks up to him, squeezing his hand in hers, sobbing deeply. He barely lifts his eyelids and smiles weakly at her. "Judy..." he says unintelligibly.

She smiles and squeezes his hand harder. She closes her eyes for a minute, tears running down her cheeks. "What are you doing..." he whispers, holding up his hand slightly.

She smiles. "Praying."

He smiles, a warm feeling starting to emerge in his chest. He wasn't too religious himself, but he knew she was willing to do anything to save him. _She's helping me. I may not believe it, but if it helps me, that'll be great._

The doctor again enters the room. "Judy, I need you," he says, ushering the small rabbit into the hall.

Judy considers the doctor's eyes, frowning, tears still in the corners of her eyes. "What, sir?"

"We took a deeper consideration into those brain scans. I don't like to say this very often," his eyes gloss over. "Your friend's hemorrhage has grown nearly twice its size, and it looks like he has lost nearly a fourth or a fifth of his blood volume. In his current condition, he most likely will not survive the night."

The words Judy dreaded struck her heart. _He's dying._ Her lungs can barely suffice to keep her conscious, but she remains so. The tears streaming her face feel thick, like a river flowing down her cheeks.

She realizes he still speaks, but she manages to receive the most vital information. "And it would be much better if we didn't tell him that," the doctor says. "So, it would be wise to spend as much time as you possibly could with him. If you were to tell him of his condition, there would be a very high chance that the bleeding would increase - due to increased heart rate - and would kill him very quickly. This may not be the case, but we don't want to take any chances."

Judy nods slowly, her eyes still drenched with tears, but dry. She had cried all she could, and the same empty feeling remains, but the tears run dry. She walks up to his still body, smiling at him. She doesn't want to see him this way. A deep feeling of dread, anger, and depression sets in. She starts sobbing again, but much harder.

"What's wrong?" he manages, wearily clenching his teeth. "Judy, please tell me."

After a moment, he mutters the phrase: "Judy, am I gonna die?"

She sits down on the chair. _Should I tell him?_

Despite the doctor's advice, she nods wearily. The beeping on the monitor increases, but does not proceed to a constant sound. Finally, it decreases after a minute and returns to normal. The day went on, and she stays in the room as much as possible, only leaving for short bathroom breaks. She is unable to eat or drink. She desperately desires to follow the doctor's advice.

The hours continue until midnight, and she remains at his conscious body. "I love you, Nick," she whispers, kissing him lightly on the forehead. "Even if... you don't live to see me again, I will never forget you," she confesses, tears rushing to her eyes again, and she desperately wipes them on his hospital gown. "Oh, Nick! Why did I have to do this? It's all my fault!" she yells, collapsing onto his chest, again breaking down in misery. The hours pass quickly as if time wants him to die.

2:03. The time on Nick's bedside broadcasts the number. The number signifying earliness, prematurity, a new beginning, or a horrid lack of sleep. Judy lifts her head to the number. A strange sound suddenly enters the air that she had not heard in the countless hours in that hospital. An incessant sound, one that refuses to stop. However, the chest Judy lay on now refuses to continue. "No," she says, looking up at the monitor. "No, it can't," she soon begins to panic and scans the room for someone.

"Code blue, ICU. I repeat, Code blue, ICU," the announcement chants, filling Judy with a chilling realization.

Nick's heart had stopped.

Judy can't follow any protocol for anything she had taken years of training to master. Nothing comes to her mind. _What do I do?_

Footsteps. A doctor appears, and so does another. Two more. Then, two nurses. Six people rush around the unconscious patient, treating him like a medical experiment than an actual person. One doctor presses against Nick's chest like dropping a bag full of bricks on a trampoline. He does this repeatedly.

And yet, in cardiac arrest for another time in his life. And to the hospital yet again, after a bout of coronary artery disease and kidney stones. More hospital bills, adding to the already mountainous pile of debt they currently are in. But she is willing to double it to let him come back. Let all this disease disappear by some miracle.

Her fox, who had gone to the hospital three times, experienced a death of his grandmother, his brother leaving suddenly, embarrassment, mourning over her own trip to the hospital, and his heroic success of saving her from his own father. Now, because of her own mistake, he is dying. And by hearing the frustrated remarks of the doctors and their use of paper towels to dab their foreheads, she knows it is time.

No revival, no pulse, no breathing, no life. Judy can't believe it happens. She doesn't want to get in their way. She closes her eyes again, tears flowing. She stands in the same position until a phrase snags her ear.

"Alright, call it."

Judy looks up, three exhausted nurses, doctors, and an unconscious Nick. She knows resuscitation can happen. She just can't admit it. But she has hope. "Please don't call it yet. Try for five more minutes."

The nurses urgently follow her suggestion and do as she says. Five minutes later, the same outcome resulted. With no hope, the doctor lifts his hands from the lifeless body. "Nicholas Wilde, 2:45 PM," he still is unconscious, and the nurse checks for a pulse, nothing. She tries again, but nothing. "We've tried all we could, but I guess it's his time," she confesses, wiping her forehead. "I'm sorry, Judy."

Judy nods at the statement, unwilling to accept anything. The nurse pulls out a large white form, placing the number 2 in the hour's column onto the paper.

 _Beep._

But now it features the same number on the vitals meter. The nurse gasps, awed. "We've got a weak pulse."

Judy smiles weakly at herself as the team wheels Nick away into the most intensive portion of the intensive care unit.

Now as Judy enters this portion of the intensive care unit, he looks even worse than before. A respirator on him, monitors on his bare chest and monitors on his fingers, all connecting in a jumble of wires connected to various machinery.

Now he looks more like a science experiment. She can't and doesn't want to recognize him. _That's not him. It can't be._

But he is right there, in the intensive care unit, at three in the morning, with a severe brain aneurysm, and a brain full of history. She can't lose this precious fox - with countless hours of selfless service, sickness, and experience. A life too valuable to lose.

For the fourth time that morning, she closes her eyes and continues to pray for him. She wants him to live. She wants to see him grow and prosper with her.

She wants to try to date him, become his fiancée, and have an opportunity of marriage. She wants to have a few kids and watch their kids grow. A few kids, yes, that's it. Her grandchildren would get to ponder Nick's medical mystery.

"If he lives," the doctor had told her prior to isolating her with Nick, "he sustained so much brain damage during the impact and lack of oxygen there is a very small chance he will be able to recognize you, and he will be very impaired. If he dies tonight, it means his brain cannot take it anymore."

It is too early for him to die now. Sixty years too early. With much more experience to be ahead of him, it is too early. She walks up to him, again, and bends her head into his open forearm and sobs into it, softly whispering incessant words to him.

Wanting him to live.

 _Sure, his body is full of experience and disease, but he can live. Many people have lived through these experiences, but he can live. I know it._

But she can't change the past. She knows that it would soon be time for him, but she can't admit it.

The nurse walks in carefully, monitoring his stats. "Normal heart rate and normal oxygen rate?" She wrinkles her nose in confusion. "Doctor?" The nurse says. Judy looks up at the call.

The doctor, already outside the doorway, walks in. "Yes, nurse? What is the issue?"

"You need to see these stats. They're not normal for his condition."

The doctor smiles as he looks at the stats, walking up to Nick. He slowly pulls the mask from Nick's snout.

"What are you doing?" The nurse says.

"His stats are completely normal," he pauses, gesturing out the doorway. "Get another MRI. I need to see his condition," the nurse does so, and he walks up to Judy. The nurse quickly removes Nick's unusually healthy body and rushes him away.

"Let's go downstairs," the doctor says to Judy, "and I'll bring you the results of the brain scan."

Minutes later, sitting in the waiting room, waiting makes her so anxious she is ready to burst into the room. But she does not. It isn't worth it. Especially with a doctor with hundreds of hours of experience by her, she knows the results will be bad. Nick had already developed severe hemorrhaging, an almost inoperable asymptomatic condition. _He's lying in the MRI room with a bleeding brain, and the doctors think he is okay all because of normal vitals._

She sits longer, patiently waiting. Something tempts her to call the Chief to tell him the news. But something makes her put her phone down. It feels like Nick's voice inside her head. "Put the phone down. Everything's gonna be okay."

It is so realistic, she looks around frantically but finds nobody.

She sits in disappointment for the next twenty minutes until the doctor walks into the waiting room. "Ms. Hopps? I think you need to come see this."

The feeling of anxiety and nervousness almost makes her expel her stomach contents. _No. He's gonna die._

She walks into the radiology department, the doctor's face in surprise.

She looks at him oddly. "What's with the awe? I've been mourning outside for his future death! What can be so amazing about a brain when it's bleeding?

The doctor smiles. "I'm awed at something else. I'll show you," he brings up a photo on the computer, which resembles the eagle's eye view of the internal structure of a brain, cradling inside a fox-shaped skull. The brain appears without blemishes, and only with perfect ripples running through it. No scars, nothing, of what her experience permits. The doctor's experience can show something different.

She examines it for a moment. "What's wrong with it?"

 _Oh, no. He's gonna tell me what's wrong with him._

The doctor grins at her comment. "I'm saying the exact same thing."

 _What? Was I right for a change?_ Judy looks at him again, puzzled. "What?"

The doctor laughs. "Ms. Hopps, I stared at your friend's brain scan for twenty minutes, looking for an aneurysm. I checked the name four times to see if it was right. His brain is completely normal. I even checked with our most experienced radiologists and two of our neurologists for a thought. They found nothing wrong."

Judy's stomach lifts, and her jaw falls inches from detaching from her skull. Her eyes widen in surprise and happiness. "Normal? I thought he had that hemorid thingy," she says, the inside of her no longer feeling like a brick, but two ounces of chocolate.

The doctor laughs. "Hemorrhage. And yes, he did. He also had a ruptured artery in the brain. There's no bleeding, no hemorrhage, and no aneurysm. Like I said, it's completely normal."

Judy shakes her head, so confused and shocked that she put her paws on her temples. "It doesn't make sense. Blood doesn't just clear up like that."

The doctor nods. "I'm as confused as you are. And I've had twelve years more medical schooling."

Miraculously, under mysterious circumstances, Nick's aneurysm cleared itself and leaves no residue or evidence to back it up. The neurologists in the hospital deem it as "mysterious hemorrhagic brain cleansing." It shocks many around the city and the globe, thanks to the help of the local newspaper and collaboration of local news networks. It is only a matter of time - two days upon his release - until Nick ends up at his own house with Judy at his side, and he spots something in the local newspaper, finding that he was only one of seven documented cases - on the planet - to heal miraculously.

Five days following the miraculous event, Judy replays the entire scenario over and over in her head. The rock had started it all, and the miracle had ended it. The rock gave him the hemorrhage. And his body miraculously cleared it out.

The source of the accident lionizes Nick, providing him recognition by many for the next few months, soon after the Zootopian Times and ZNN collaborate and conduct a personal interview, which airs live on Zootopia News Network. One author even states that he will write a book about him, and over the next two months, and through weekly collaboration, the author eventually begins the biography on him.

Over a period of two weeks, as all the celebrities come and go, his fame slowly fades. Fewer reporters come to their house weekly and interview them. Eventually, the collaboration drops altogether and eventually dissipates.

Nine months following his release, he finds himself and Judy standing in a park at nine-o-clock a Saturday night. While the buildings surrounding the quiet park ring with energy, the park remains quiet. They both face the beautiful full moon, and the crickets fill the air with beautiful song. Nick bends down on one knee and gives her a small, forethought speech, then pulls out a ring and proposes to her. The night ends in a round of grateful embraces and shedding of tears.

Finally, standing above a sizable crowd in the very park in which the explosion occurred quite a long time earlier, Nick and Judy witness the words in which they had both wished to witness Jack's marriage day.

"You may kiss the bride."

The crowd sheds many tears, exchanges many embraces, and provide many congratulations to the happy, recent couple.

Seven months later, after many arguments and agreements, the happy bunny conceives her first pup, Jace. She bears him 35 days later. She conceives two female pups within the year, names being Laverne and Jessica. The happy, 5-member family makes many memories, all three of their kids going to preschool, elementary, middle, and high school. They graduate with almost-perfect grades and all manage to apply and join the identical college. Jace eventually manages a career as a firefighter, Laverne as a stay-at-home mom, and Jessica as a police officer in the Zootopia Police Department. After graduating from the Academy, Jessica pairs as a trio with her father and mother for five years before both Nick and Judy retire.

Twenty-five years following Nick's accident, all three of their children bear their own children, and Nick and Judy gratefully and happily become grandparents. Life continues, and twenty years later, or forty-five years after Nick's accident, after all three of Nick's grandkids apply into college, Judy receives unfortunate news: the local doctors diagnose her with terminal brain cancer at the age of 72 and soon she admits to the hospital. Nick, eighty years old and twenty years retired, stays by her side. He now imagines the horror that Judy had felt forty-five years earlier before his remarkable recovery. Now sitting in the intensive care unit, he holds his wife's hand, cradling it so dearly as Judy had done since that day, muttering the words "I love you" to her as she had done. He only occasionally leaves to visit his children and grandchildren and to pay the bills with government leave and a small job at the local supermarket.

Now, forty-seven years after the accident, at the age of eighty-two, he stands by a grave. This gravestone is special, being that he put nearly two thousand dollars into its creation. Completely marble, this gravestone signifies the love that Nick had and still has. The grave of his true hero, the one that saved his life that one day forty-seven years prior. The one that stood with him, even in the hardest of times. Judy Laverne Hopps, his only hero and wife, died a day before she turned 73. Her brain simply could not handle the constant growth of malignant cells. He falls to his knees, puts his paws on the gravestone, and stares into the words engraved within. "Carrots – I've always loved you. You know that. Ever since I made you confess that you loved me so long ago, I've loved you."

Quickly, a memory rushes to his head. He stands up, looking at the gravestone. He looks at his clothing, the same tan khakis, the same green shirt, and the same blue tie tucked into the collar.

The dream.

So long ago, the dream he had that he kept all his life. The one when he stood at the grave site.

Nick looks down at the gravestone and catches himself stuffing his paws in his pockets. He remembers waking from his dream just before having read the name on the gravestone next to his grandmother's. Nick looks to his left - June Wilde, the gravestone he had seen in his dream very clearly. On his left is his wife's gravestone.

Realization kicks in. _That was Judy_ , he ponders, looking at the gravestone again. _Somehow my dream foretold Judy's death._

Nick stares down at the words below the engraved name of his wife he had read so many times already.

'Turns out, real life's a little bit more complicated than a slogan on a bumper sticker. Real life is messy. We all have limitations. We all make mistakes.'

* * *

Two years and some-odd months later, Nick spends the last moments of his life, with a crippling headache, looking at all the wonderful pictures of him and his grandchildren, with his children, and with his wife in his early life. He stares down at a specific photo in the so very cherished book of memories. "Judy," he says, tracing his finger on the photo. As he sets down his last picture, he stands up for a moment, and the sudden rise in blood pressure sets off a chain reaction in his own body. He passes out, fifty years after the accident. His daughter Jessica discovers Nick two hours after he passes, and the forensic pathologist rules his case as a stroke.

Twenty years later, Shaun, Jessica's grandson, opens a dusty box in the garage and blows on it, coughing furiously over the intense amount of dust entering his lungs. He slowly pries open the black leather case and looks inside. "Great-grandpa?" he says, looking at it again. The face in the full-color photo appears grey and old, and very wise. Tears come to Shaun's eyes as he hugs the leather case. "Oh, Great-grandpa... I'd knew I'd find someone to help me. Mom's told me so much about you... I wish I could be you right now. I wish you could come down and give me a big hug," he digs down in the box and finds an old, crumpled newspaper at the bottom of the box. As he picks it up, the headline catches his eye: "FOX EXPERIENCES MIGHTY MIRACLE". A picture of Nick, so very young many years ago, stares back at Shaun.

"Great-grandpa," Shaun says, considering the sky, supposing his great-grandfather is looking down from the cloud. "Now I know why Mom called you famous!"

And at this moment, Shaun grasps the picture, tosses it into the box, and picks up the box, carrying it to the front door of the house. Once inside, his mother, Lily, considers Shaun with intent. "Shaun, what have you got there? I can smell something on you. Why are you so happy?"

"Mom, I found Great Grandpa. Look at him."

Lily considers the photo, then smiles as she looks at Shaun's gleaming smile. "Oh, Shaun. You did find Great Grandpa. You also know what's awesome?"

"What?" The young Shaun replies with enthusiasm. His mother gestures Shaun over to a small photo album, and she flips through it to reveal a picture.

In this picture, an old fox gracefully cradles a very young baby. The old fox, sporting a green tropical shirt and tan khakis, looks down and smiles in this still photo. "Who is that?" Shaun says, staring at the baby in the photo.

"Well, Shaun, that's you. Your grandfather held you two days before he died. Do you know what he said to me when he saw you?"

"What?"

"He said, 'When this little munchkin grows up, make sure you tell him how much I love him. Visit his great grandma with him, and don't stop being with him, even when you can't physically be with him. And anytime he tells you he loves you, I want you to say one thing…'"

"What did he want you to say, Mom?"

Lily considers the small pocketbook in her paws. "Read it."

After considering the handwritten phrase on the paper, he smiles. "'It's called a hustle, Sweetheart.'"


End file.
